Harry Potter and the Grim Heratige
by shinobikarasu
Summary: Living in misery after Sirius' death, Harry thinks there is nothing left for him. But what surprises has Sirius left behind for Harry to inherit? Post OotP. Contains slash, femslash, multi-partneers, violence and gore. Reader disgression is advised.
1. Message From Beyond the Veil

**dsHARRY POTTER AND THE GRIM HERITAGE.**

Chapter One: Message from Beyond the Veil.

From the most innocent of beginnings – the tiniest pebble dislodged all unknowing – can come avalanches.

Avalanches that destroy, and remake, all that lies before them.

On an overcast afternoon, in a dusty library, inside a (for all intents and purposes) invisible house, a young man sat, a rather unique photo album open in his lap. Little did he know at that very moment, a metaphysical pebble was about to start its bouncy journey through his life...

-I--

Harry Potter ran his fingers over and over the smiling faces of his parents and Godfather, watching them laugh and wave up at him through a haze of tears. Impatiently, he yanked off his fogged glasses and used the hem of his over-sized tee shirt to wipe his face.

The Grimmauld Place library was peaceful, dust motes glittering in the sunlight flooding in through the recently cleaned windows. A magical fire in the huge black marble fireplace gave soft light without heat, and Harry glanced up at the mantelpiece to the photos arranged there. Behind him, numerous shelves stretched away into the shadowed recesses of the huge room, the accumulated magical knowledge of countless generations of Blacks collected there.

Sadly, nothing there was the answer to Harry's most pressing question.

Was Sirius, his Godfather, really dead?

He dreamed of it, saw it in all his waking hours - Bellatrix's stunner hitting a laughing Sirius in the chest, his expression frozen in shock as he fell backwards, the rippling veil...

No-one Harry spoke to knew much about the ancient arch in the Department of Mysteries. Dumbledore insisted that Sirius was dead; the arch a one-way door to "the next great adventure". When pressed for proof, he said it had been used as a means of execution in the past, and that no-one had ever returned through it.

Harry sat back and grimaced. He'd spent a mere two weeks at the Dursleys, an agreement having been made for them to treat him well that fortnight, therefore recharging the wards early, so they could go on a holiday to Ireland with Aunt Marge. She had been showing some of her horrid dogs there or something. Harry hadn't cared, as it had meant his escape from them, even if it had been to his godfather's house.

At first he'd been dead-set against it, fearing the effects on his already nightmare-riddled sleep, but on finding out only Remus, and a few days later Hermione and her parents, would be there, he'd acquiesced.

It had proved to be a wise move, as he and the grieving werewolf had become much closer since. In the subsequent two weeks they had talked for hours, exorcising the shadows of the past.

Remus had been deeply distressed and guilty over his blind acceptance of Dumbledore's orders to leave the Dursleys, and Harry, strictly alone all those years ago. As he'd explained it, his obedience had been colored by his certainty Harry would have feared him - a "Dark Creature."

Then together, utterly distraught over the loss of Sirius, they'd cried, clinging to each other, then had each other laughing through their tears with tales of Sirius at school, with James and Lily, with the infant Harry, about the rescue and how Sirius had supported Harry though the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Now they were well on the way to a fine relationship, mentor and pupil, uncle and nephew, friends.

Remus knew nothing about the arch beyond what Dumbledore had said, and had been unable to find out anything further. He and Hermione had even combined their formidable research skills...to no avail.

Harry's bushy-haired friend had healed well and quickly from her injuries sustained at the Ministry, much to Harry's guilty relief, and had wasted little time beating that fact into her moody and all too often self-flagellating friend's thick head. She had also convinced her parents to close up their dental practice, and had moved them, lock, stock and barrel, into a suite of rooms on the second floor of Grimmauld place.

Remus, Kingsly Shacklebolt and Mad-Eye Moody had recreated their comfortable home there, magically moving walls and re-arranging rooms so that Dan and Emma Granger would feel more at home.

Harry closed the precious album, a tiny smile quirking his lips. Having spent 24/7 with Hermione, her parents and Remus had been eye-opening. In a fortnight, he'd had a crash-course in what a real family was and what real parents were like.

On her arrival, Emma had taken one look at him, and had enfolded him in a gentle hug, nothing like the smothering, over-powering embrace of Molly Weasley. Close on her heels, Dan had wrapped his arms around both of them, Hermione wriggling her way into the huddle... and Harry had lost it.

He'd exploded into a storm of weeping, years of loneliness, fear, grief, loss, rage and isolation pouring out in a wave. He'd tried to pull away, to control it, to hide his inner self as he always had, but the Grangers would have none of it. They had held him as he screamed, yelled, hit, fought, swore and wept, crying with him but refusing to let go.

At some point, Remus had joined them and had been pulled into the group hug, adding his tears and rage and grief – but the Grangers had stood firm, holding both the weeping werewolf and distraught teen as if they had known them for years – which, as Emma had later explained – they had in a way, through Hermione's long and detailed letters.

That had been the main event of their first day at the house. Now, two and a bit weeks later, it was as if they had always all lived together.

Emma loved to cook, Dan had a cleaning fetish. Emma was a book junkie, so was her husband. Emma was tiny, bushy-haired, beautiful – and as formidable as Minerva McGonagall. She took no prisoners and suffered no fools. Both she and Dan were blindingly intelligent, so Hermione was clearly her parents' child.

Dan Granger was tall, with dark brown eyes, and was quiet, thoughtful and very, very funny...in a quiet, thoughtful kind of way. He was also fearless where magic was concerned and it had been he who finally solved the 'Walburga Problem'.

To say the Granger parents found the abusive portrait in the hall offensive was an understatement. Dan had made it his mission in life to remove the foul-mouthed harridan, and had bent all his considerable intellect and resources to that end.

He, Harry and Kingsley had gone to visit an old school friend of Dan's who worked at the Victoria and Albert Museum, and had returned with a jar of 'The Juice'. This secret concoction was the result of years of expertise cleaning and restoring paintings, and Dan's friend had assured them it was foolproof.

A day later, suitably fitted with earplugs, Dan, paintbrush in hand, had confronted the screaming image of Mrs. Black. With an evil grin that had made the horrible old biddy gulp nervously before she launched into another tirade, he dipped his brush into 'The Juice' and stuck it right into her face.

The results had been spectacular. Smoke and steam had exploded outwards, the magic-infused paint bubbling and hissing. With a scarily maniacal grin, Dan had proceeded to paint the ever more feebly screaming portrait of Sirius' evil mother out of existence.

Kreacher, attracted by the screams, had rushed to his Mistress' aid, howling and gnashing his teeth in rage. Hermione, seeing her father in danger, had then done something Harry had never expected in a million years.

She'd screamed for Dobby.

Harry's little friend had immediately appeared, liberally dusted with flour, took one look at the scene - and snapped his fingers.

Kreacher's suddenly headless body had careened into Dan's legs, scaring the bejeebers out of him, but doing no other damage. Kreacher's head, neatly mounted on a shiny new plaque, had appeared beside those of his ancestors in that same moment, as the portrait gave a final despairing squawk, the frame coming loose from the wall and falling to the floor with a dull 'clunk'.

Dobby had then thrown himself at Harry, wrapping his skinny arms around his hero's knobby knees. In that moment, Harry found himself asking the almost hysterical elf to bond with him and come live and work in Grimmauld Place.

Dobby had agreed, instantly and vocally, asking only that Winky come too. Harry, glancing at a chalk white, shaking Hermione, had agreed.

In the end, another minor miracle had occurred. An hysterically weeping, guilt-ridden Hermione, uncomforted by her somewhat bemused parents, had ended up kneeling and being comforted and calmed by an oddly sober Winky...who then insisted "Miss. Mione" bond with her as she "clearly needed a good elf".

A wide-eyed Hermione had complied...the original incarnation of S.P.E.W dying a largely unlamented death in that moment.

Harry grinned at the memory, rising from his chair to place his album on a table in the center of the library.

Currently the Grangers, Elves, Remus and Kingsley were in Diagon Alley, shopping. Harry had declined the offer to go with them, and as the _Fidelius_ was fine, Remus deemed him safe enough to remain behind alone. The Weasleys were due to arrive that evening but, in all honesty, Harry wasn't sure he was looking forward to it.

Tomorrow was his sixteenth birthday and he'd hoped to spend it with just his new 'family', but Dumbledore had sent Fawkes with a letter stating he was moving the Weasleys into Headquarters 'for their safety', and that they would be staying until school started on September first.

Neither Harry or Hermione had heard a peep out of Ron, or Ginny for that matter, since the day after school ended. Remus said they'd all gone to Romania to collect Charlie, who was moving back to England.

Bill had popped in briefly a day ago, stopping long enough for tea and cake and sharing the news that Fleur Delacour's parents had ordered her back to France, ending their budding relationship. He'd also dropped off Harry and Hermione's O.W.L results and had promised Harry he'd try and find out what he could about the Veil.

He and Hermione had spent an hour huddled together in the library, taking notes and discussing what research she and Remus had done so he wouldn't waste time doubling up, then he floo'd away, back to Gringott's.

Harry frowned a little, turning to look at the bookshelves. He'd always thought Hermione and Ron would make a couple, but lately he'd begun to wonder if that was such a bright idea. He'd watched Hermione and Bill talking and laughing together as they'd prepared their research outline. The eldest Weasley son was brilliant, ambitious, driven, hard-working, mature and conscientious.

So was Hermione.

Ron SO wasn't.

If he was honest, Harry had to admit his best mate was a mediocre student, had little focus or ambition outside of playing for the Cannons, was prone to being excessively jealous, tended to belittle Hermione when he wasn't getting her to do his homework, seemed to think the world owed him a living, was ignorant and intolerant of Muggles and had an insecurity complex the size of the Isle of Wight. Not to mention, as Hermione herself had so succinctly put it – he had the emotional depth of a teaspoon. All things considered, he was a lousy match for Harry's brilliant, somewhat isolated, best female friend.

Bill, on the other hand...

Harry grinned, mentally making a note to mention the situation to Remus. The old Marauder was a true romantic at heart, and in the throws of a new relationship himself, so Harry thought he'd be inspired to help.

During the course of their talks, Remus had cautiously shared that he was gay, and that he and Sirius had become a couple when they were sixteen. This had also been destroyed by Pettigrew's betrayal and Sirius' incarceration in Azkaban. Remus had remained alone until just before he'd begun teaching at Hogwarts, when he and Kingsley had started to carefully get to know each other.

With Sirius' return, Kingsley had nobly stepped aside, allowing the two old lovers to discover if anything remained of their past relationship. It had, but Order business, Dumbledore sending Remus away to court the other werewolves and Sirius being under what amounted to house arrest, not to mention all the lost time and trauma of prison, the two had had little real time together.

Then Sirius had fallen through the Veil.

Remus had, in his grief, turned to Kingsley who, sensibly, was taking things slowly. Harry just wanted his mentor and Uncle to be loved and happy. All the might-have-beens with Remus, Sirius and him sharing a home would drive him nuts if he allowed himself to dwell on them.

Deep in thought, Harry almost didn't notice a sudden twinkle of golden light on the wall to his left. However, it _was_ rather Snitch-like, and the youngest Hogwarts Seeker in a century always saw the Snitch!

Turning to face the light, Harry realized it came from the Black Family tapestry, another thing no one had been able to take down.

Curious, he walked over and studied it, running his eyes down the unfamiliar names to the part where Sirius' name had been blasted off...only...it wasn't!

Where there had been a hole, now there was unblemished cloth, Sirius' name was once again intact and the date of his death had been added, with a golden line that led to...

"Huh?" Harry exclaimed, shocked. There was his name – Harry James Potter-Black.

Harry, not quite believing his eyes, reached out and ran the tips of his fingers over the shining new embroidery. It was real.

"Why Potter-Black?" he wondered aloud. And as he did, a book on a nearby shelf literally leaped out at him.

With reflexes born of much Quidditch practice, and excellent genes, Harry caught it right in front of his face. It opened in his hands to reveal a cavity cut into the pages. A folded piece of parchment was squashed into it, his name in Sirius' handwriting on the front.

With trembling fingers, Harry pulled the letter free, dropping the book unceremoniously onto the floor. He carefully unfolded it, only to find it blank, then gasped as a tiny pulse of magic pricked his finger, drawing a drop of blood. As his blood stained the edge of the parchment, writing appeared.

"_My dearest Harry,_

_This is bloody hard to write Pup, as I am trying to project into the future and look ahead, something this old dog has problems with. New tricks and all that!_

_We Blacks have always had a sixth sense about our deaths, and while I've been trapped in this mausoleum, I've had that sense. I believe my time to join James and Lily is near – my only regrets are leaving you and Remus, when both of you clearly need me! _

_Harry, while Dumbledore might think I've been sitting here, my thumbs up my arse, being a good obedient dog, I've actually been rather busy. _

_GO TO GRINGOTT'S! You need to get there as soon as possible as there's a lot you need to do, before the official reading of my Will. You MUST ALSO be at my Will reading. I have several surprises for you – and various others – but to have them legally ratified, you MUST be there! _

_You are my Heir, I love you like the son I never had. From the moment James handed you to me, you barely ten minutes old, you have had my heart. I love you, Harry, and I have made arrangements to insure your wellbeing, safety, security and, I hope, happiness. _

_This next part isn't easy – I hope you spent long enough with me to trust me on this – DUMBLEDORE IS NOT YOUR FRIEND. He is a manipulative, cold souled bastard. He was the caster of your parent's _Fidelius_. You know what that means. _

_He isn't a Dork Lord like that toe rag Riddle, but he _is _self-serving, arrogant and willing to use any and all means to further his agenda of the _'greater sodding good'_. _

_Show this letter to Remus. This might shock you, but hey! I'm dead! So too bad, Pup – I was gay. Remus was and is the love of my life, my one and only. Trust him. _

_Also Shack – he's a good man. If you can, get my lone wolf to accept what Kingsley offers._

_My cousin Nymphadora (Merlin, I _love_ writing her name out in full) Tonks, her parents Andromeda and Ted, Augusta Longbottom, Ebenezer Crocker and Filius Flitwick are also people you can rely on. _

_If you can open Minnie McGonagall's eyes, her too. Mad-Eye is also capable of independent thought, especially since that total cock-up last year, when AD didn't _seem_ to realize he had a false Mad-Eye prancing around his precious school for a whole bloody year. _

_You also need to talk to Aberforth Dumbledore, Oberon Ollivander and Florian Fortesque. All of them have information for you. _

_I do know Bill, Charlie, the twins, Hermione, Neville and that very strange lass Luna, are true friends. Arthur is possibly too loyal to AD, Molly I don't like, Ron and Ginny I don't have a bloody clue about, so be cautious. _

_Pup, don't, under any circumstances, trust that pillock Fudge! Amelia Bones is honest, but the Head Auror, Rufus Scrimgoeur, is a first class, ambitious prick. His deputy, Gawain Roberts, is a good bloke and would help you when (not if) you catch that bastard Pettigrew._

_Pup – see Hackblade at Gringott's. He's a greedy little bastard, but if you keep that in mind, he's a bloody brilliant account manager. You also need to see the original of your parent's Will; the _original,_ Harry, not a copy. And get all the ledgers for your vaults. Yes Pup, plural!_

_You also need to be prepared for something of a physical ordeal. I won't say more here, Hackblade knows what to do. Request the Goblin Healer Aksaki to help you. She's the best, and actually knows about human/wizard healing. _

_Well, that's all I have to say, except BE CAREFUL Harry. Voldie isn't your only enemy. Remus can be your guide, along with Flitwick, Ollivander, Abe D, and Florry Fortesque. Augusta is a tough old bird and knows every Pureblood rule and regulation, so she can teach you how to deal with all those inbred idiots. Mad Eye and Croaker would be ideal teachers/trainers – if you can get Alastair to side with you. _

_I know the Prophesy, Pup, your folks told me. I was planning to tell you in the holidays. No one else knows...except AD...and probably Snivellus Snape. Do I need to tell you not to trust him? Thought not!_

_Harry, you are the light of my life. I am so, so proud of you. I have faith in you. I believe in you. Please, _believe in yourself!_ I only wish we had had years to get to know each other, but that wasn't meant to be. Don't grieve too long for me – if I died trying to help you, I died well and happy._

_Be happy, my son._

_I will always love you._

_Your Godfather, Padfoot."_

For several long, agonizing minutes, Harry held the precious letter to his chest and cried.

This made it final. His Godfather, his Padfoot, was indeed dead. The tiny flame of hope he'd carried in his heart gutted and went out.

Sirius was dead and nothing was going to bring him back.

-I--

Hermione Granger, her cheeks pink, her hair windswept, stumbled out of the large library fireplace into the waiting arms of her father. He kissed her on the head then moved her to the side, just in time to catch his wife as she shot headlong out of the emerald flames.

"I will _never_ get used to that!" Emma stated emphatically, as Dan and her daughter laughed. She quickly got out of the way as a grinning Remus Lupin stepped out of the flames, closely followed by an equally amused looking Senior Auror. "Why do you two never fall on your faces flooing?" The Granger matriarch demanded, glaring at the two men.

Kingsley wrapped his arms around Remus, holding the shorter man against his broad chest and smiled. "Talent," he said succinctly.

"Practice," the werewolf added.

Emma mock-glared some more at the pair. "Fat lot of help you two are," she grumbled. "Mind you, I'm not sure which one I dislike more, the floo or portkeys. Either way, I need someone ready to catch me, or I do a faceplant."

Hermione was glancing around the library, a faint frown on her face. "Where's Harry?" She wondered aloud.

Remus, grinning up at Shack as Dan made some joke, switched his attention to the young witch, all humor leaving his face. "What's wrong, Hermione?" He asked, having long ago recognized her uncanny ability to sense his nephew's mind-state and level of well being.

"I... I'm not sure. We need to find Harry..._now_!" She said, already moving towards the library door.

At that moment, Dobby popped into the room wringing his hands, his huge ears drooping, his tennis ball-like eyes full of anxiety. "Sirs and Misses', Harry Potter Sir needs yous," he squeaked, his voice higher pitched than usual.

Hermione, who was nearest the distressed elf, knelt in front of him. "What's wrong with Harry, Dobby?" She asked quietly, patting him on one thin shoulder.

Dobby looked up at her, tears forming in his eyes. "Harry Potter Sir's Miss Mione comforts Dobby? You is a kind witch, a most noble..."

"Thanks Dobby, truly, but what about Harry?" Hermione said quickly, before the elf could really get going.

"Harry Potter Sir has received a letter. Harry Potter Sir is crying and is in the kitchen," Dobby said, then grabbed his ears and began to twist them.

Hermione caught his hands in hers. "No self-punishment Dobby. You know Harry hates you hurting yourself. What do you need to tell us?"

The small elf looked up at her, his face lit with gratitude... and fearful worry. "Harry Potter Sir has found the firewhiskey," he whispered, "and... and... has been drinking it!" He squeaked.

"Oh shit!" Dan muttered, garnering a glare from his wife.

"That's not good," Kingsley added, and Remus jerked away from him.

"_You think_?" He snarled. "_MOVE, YOU TWO_!" He added, and Dobby squeaked then popped away, as Hermione scrambled to get out of the werewolf's path to the library door.

Remus wrenched open the door, so anxious he never noticed he'd crushed the doorknob into a mental lump. He practically ran off down the hall, leaving the others to follow as best they could.

"I think we'd better hurry," Dan said, and ushered the others out ahead of himself. In a group, they followed the agitated werewolf.

-I--

Harry stared morosely into his half full glass of firewhiskey, then reluctantly gulped down another mouthful. He grimaced as fire shot out his nose. Clearly there was some skill to getting shit-faced he had yet to master. The stuff tasted foul and he felt awful...worse, he could still clearly remember why he'd tried drinking himself into a stupor in the first place.

He felt like such a complete and utter idiot, a puppet, pranced about and played along by the man he had bloody near worshiped - the great Albus "trust me, my boy" Dumbledore.

How could he? How could the hero of the Light have left an innocent man in hell for 12 years?

Images of his emaciated godfather filled his minds' eye – his dead haunted eyes, how he twitched and flinched at every noise, every person, the screams from his room nearly every night – from nightmares Harry knew were worse than his own.

Harry growled, his green eyes glowing with magic and rage, tiny sparks dancing among the strands of his hair and between his fingers.

The shelves behind him began to shake, the crockery jumping about, the pots and pans rattling in accompaniment to his anger.

Harry reached for his glass again, wincing at the flames after he drained it.

That old fuck had left Sirius to rot. He'd known all about Pettigrew being the secret kee... hang on!

Harry tried to think, his befuddled mind sliding off on a tangent. If Dumbledore had known about Peter...had he known he was an Animagus? Had he known who Scabbers was all those years? He sure as hell hadn't seemed surprised by the jumbled, bizarre tale Harry, Ron and Hermione had told him at the end of third year!

Harry snarled, not even noticing as all the glasses in the cupboard shattered.

Dumbledore always knew what was happening around the school, all the day to day stuff. How then had he consistently missed the big stuff? _ALL_ the big stuff?

How had he not known three boys became Animagi to keep his secret werewolf student company? Was Remus simply dumped in the shack each month, with no monitoring? What if he'd escaped into Hogsmeade?

Harry knew that each full moon the changed Marauders had been out and about the countryside. How had Dumbledore not known about this, given that if James, Sirius and Peter had not mastered the Animagus transformation, it would have been a completely feral werewolf rampaging around on his own?

Harry pondered this. There must have been some sort of magical supervision. They would have to have been seen. Harry ground his teeth, half a dozen cast iron pots twisting up into metal blobs as he did so.

Thinking back over the years, he had to wonder why the Philosopher's Stone had ever been brought to a school full of children, especially if it was a magnet for a disembodied Dark Lord. Why was it's hiding place so specifically pointed out at the Welcoming Feast? Shit! Tell close to five hundred children not to go somewhere – where are they all going to bloody go?

Why had the puzzles been so simple that three eleven year olds could defeat them? In fact, as Voldemort had been disembodied, why were there puzzles at all? How would they have stopped the evil spirit? Unless Dumbledore already knew that Voldemort had had a physical host? Had he known all along about Professor Quirrell?

Why hadn't Nicholas Flammel, his wife and the Stone gone under a _Fidelius_ in some remote corner of the world and been their own secret keepers? After all, they had clearly managed quite well on their own for over 600 years. Why had they had to sacrifice their lives through the destruction of the Stone because Dumbledore had wanted it kept at Hogwarts, and then deemed it necessary to destroy it after Quirrellmort had been defeated?

Harry stared balefully at his empty glass, his thoughts now churning worse than his stomach.

Why had Hagrid never been properly questioned 50 years ago? Why hadn't he been cleared then? Why hadn't something so powerfully evil as that diary triggered some sort of ward in the castle? How had Dumbledore and Snape, both self-proclaimed masters of the Mind Arts, never picked up that Ginny had been possessed? Why had Fawkes, the Sorting Hat and the Sword of Gryffindor really come to him in the Chamber of Secrets? Why had it fallen to _a twelve year old child_ to kill, with a bloody _sword_, a sixty foot long, millennia-old, violently toxic magical snake? Why hadn't he, or Ginny, received any kind of post-trauma counseling?

Harry mentally moved ahead into his third year.

Why had a thirteen year old girl, no matter how brilliant, been allowed to risk buggering up Time Itself for no better reason than taking a few extra classes? Not that he begrudged Hermione satisfying her lust for learning, but to trust an artifact that was normally hidden in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries to a young teen just didn't make sense!

Why was Snape kept in the school? He'd been as much to blame for James and Lily dying as Pettigrew and Voldemort were. Harry had nearly exploded with rage when Dumbledore had revealed that it was Snape passing on the half-heard prophecy that had set Voldemort on the path that ended up with Harry (and Neville, come to think of it) orphaned. How could the Headmaster ever have allowed he and Snape to be in the same place at the same time, given the hatred and bitter history the two shared?

Why had Dumbledore never realized that in fourth year his life-long friend Alastair Moody was being impersonated? Again, wasn't he a master Legimens? And given that Snape and Moody loathed each other, why hadn't Snape checked out 'Moody' out of sheer spite and reported the fake to the Headmaster?

Why had Harry been forced to compete in the Tournament? He hadn't written his name, it hadn't been either his mundane or magical signature. Surely during the long history of the Tri-Wizard, other competitors had been entered by enemies or those who thought it was a good joke. Why hadn't there been a loophole to cover that? Not to mention he had been _way_ under age. Why was that not grounds for his removal? And after he _had_ been forced to compete, why hadn't Dumbledore tried to help him with Skeeter's lies, those foul badges and _especially_ after Cedric's death?

Now thoroughly miserable, Harry poured another glass of firewhiskey. He didn't even want to consider the mistakes, misunderstandings and abuse he'd suffered during the recently completed fifth year. He knew little of Muggle disaster relief, or victims of crime support, but he did know that most people in traumatic situations got help - food, clothes, counseling. Why had he never been given the chance to talk to someone? Surely there were Mind Healers?

A tear ran down Harry's cheek and he angrily brushed it away. Why did _he _have to be the bloody Chosen One? Why hadn't he been told all this shit earlier?

Harry was so caught up in drunken misery, he didn't notice the two house elves pop in, cop an eyeful and pop out again.

When the kitchen door slammed open a few minutes later, Harry looked up blearily from his glass. A combination of tears, alcoholic befuddlement, crusty eyelashes and smeared spectacles gave him the blurry outline of a man..._who was pointing a wand at him!_

Drunk he might be, but Harry Potter wasn't the Chosen One for nothing!

In a remarkably smooth move, given his inebriated state, Harry fell sideways off his chair, which was subsequently rendered the most sober piece of furniture in Britain (and possibly Europe) courtesy of Remus' _Sobriatus _spell. It also turned a delicate shade of pink for several minutes.

Harry managed to draw his wand from his back pocket without losing a buttock, scuttled under the table and bellowed "_Expelliarmus" _at his attacker.

To avoid having his ankles mangled, Remus performed a truly balletic leap and spin in midair (as Shack later took great pleasure in telling him) all the while yelling for Harry to bloody well hold still, and let him sober him up.

Harry didn't really hear this as he had rolled, painfully, into a chair (that was possibly drunk as it had fallen on him). He shoved it aside, even as it too was turned teetotal and bright pink.

"_Reducto!" _Harry roared, poking the tip of his wand coyly over the edge of the table.

Remus really had to draw on both his skills of interpretative dance and werewolf reflexes to avoid this one, barely managing to do so as the red beam demolished the ice-box behind him.

He cast a filthy look over his shoulder at Shack who was out in the hall rolling around on the ground in hysterics. The Grangers give him identically raised eyebrows, Dan's accompanied by a smirk, Emma's by a truly spectacular eye-roll.

"Oh for goodness' sake!" Hermione snapped, as the table joined the abstemious collection of furniture, and Harry almost disemboweled Remus with a _Diffindo_ that sliced the end section of the cupboards right off the wall.

"Harry James Potter!" She bellowed, causing Remus to stare at her gobsmacked, and her drunk friend to half-swallow the _Reducto _he was uttering, which was just as well for the werewolf.

Instead of blowing a hole right through him, the off color spell struck Remus in the chest, turned him neon orange, and flung him violently backwards, to land atop his now hiccuping lover who'd finally managed to drag himself up into a sitting position on the floor in the hall.

They crashed over together in a tangle of multicolored limbs and robes, Shack dissolving once again into hysterics, as Remus swore violently enough to strip the paint off the walls.

Harry, meanwhile, stood up, swaying delicately as he confronted his fuming bushy-haired friend.

"Hermy... Hersaminny... Hernia...," he tried, but gave it up as a lost cause, deciding instead to go with what he thought was a charming, roguish smile, but which actually more closely resembled a lop-sided leer, followed by a loud, odoriferous, belch.

Hermione flinched back from the spurt of rank-smelling flame, then with a certain degree of grim satisfaction, cast the spell Remus had been trying to hit Harry with.

It impacted dead center with it's now unresisting, albeit flinching, target.

-I--

_Author's Note and Disclaimer: The following story is based on the world and characters created by the great J. K. Rowling. She owns everything, I only own the plot._


	2. The Weight of Prophecy

Chapter Two: The Weight of Prophecy

Harry wasn't sure which was worse – the stinking cloud of alcoholic vapor that poured out of his skin or the violent bout of nausea that had him bent over the kitchen sink for several minutes, valiantly trying to puke up not just the contents of his stomach but the organ itself – with all its neighbors by the feel of it.

Finally he stopped trying to vomit himself inside out, and Remus, once again normal colored, was immediately beside him, a wonderfully cool, wet cloth for his face, a strong arm to help him to a chair.

"Sorry about that pup. That's an Auror spell used for emergencies, when there's no time for sleeping off a bender."

As he spoke, Remus finished wiping Harry's sweaty face, and Dobby produced a cup of steaming tea.

"Drink it," Shack added, sitting down beside the teen, "you'll feel fine afterwards. While there's an excellent hangover potion available, we needed you sober _now_, not late tomorrow morning."

Hermione sat opposite Harry, and gave a snort of laughter. "Can you imagine the look on Mrs. Weasley's face if she arrived tonight to find you passed out drunk? We'd never hear the end of it!"

Harry, sipping his tea, choked then coughed madly, Kingsley helpfully smacking him on the back. "Merlin, what a thought!" He gasped, flinching away from the Senior Auror's remarkably heavy hand.

"Is she...ahhh..._very motherly_?" Dan asked delicately, holding out a chair for his wife before seating himself.

The others all traded glances, then burst out laughing.

"You could say that," Remus agreed.

"So motherly, in fact, her two oldest sons moved to Egypt and Romania, the next one sold his soul to the Ministry, while the Twins relocated to their joke shop in Diagon Alley," Shack added, nodding his thanks to Winky who had just set out tea, cakes and other edibles for everybody.

"She really does mean well," Hermione explained to her parents, as she poured Harry another cup of tea. "She loves them all so much, and worries incessantly about them. She lost her twin brothers in the first war with V...Voldemort, so she's terrified she'll lose her children this time."

"The first war?" Emma asked, a slice of cream-filled sponge half way to her mouth.

"Yeah... back in the seventies and eighties when he killed my parents," Harry said quietly.

Remus glanced at his nephew's downcast face, and turned to the Grangers. "I gather Hermione has shared some things with you, but she wouldn't know much about that time, so let me explain."

He then proceeded to give a succinct and through run-through of Voldemort's first rise to power, the political situation at the time, the major players - including the Potters and Sirius, Dumbledore, various Death Eaters and Pettigrew, followed by the pivotal events in Godric's Hollow and a synopsis of more current events, Harry and Hermione adding details here and there.

"So now he's back, in a body that's basically a magical construct, most likely consolidating his power base, inducting and marking more Death Eaters, gathering information and acquiring supplies and funds," he said finally, a slump to his shoulders.

"So what's the government doing? That Minister of Magic you mentioned?" Emma asked, glancing over at the teens who'd both made sounds of disgust.

"Fudge?" Shack asked, putting his cup down and resting his elbows on the table. "Not a damn thing. He's denying anything is wrong, refuses to believe He Who Must Not Be Named is back, refuses to increase Auror funding, refuses to increase security anywhere, including Azkaban itself, refuses to do any bloody thing at all!" Remus patted Shack's arm, then gripped it as the big Auror took a deep breath and fought for calmness.

Dan shook his head, bewildered. "Didn't you say this Fudge bloke _saw_ Voldemort?"

"He did," Harry said, "but I had told him about Voldemort's rebirth at the end of the Tri-Wizard Tournament too! He's been in denial since then. He even arranged for Barty Crouch Jr to be kissed by a Dementor...I think to stop him talking."

"What if the Dementors were already working for Voldemort then?" Interjected Hermione. "Those foul things were awfully focused on you long before Sirius made it to Hogwarts."

"Hmmm...that's true. It _was_ the perfect way to make sure he couldn't be questioned by Aurors or in front of the Wizengamot." Harry agreed, his brow furrowed in thought.

Dan raised his hand, like a kid in a classroom. "Kissed?" He asked. "Doesn't sound too bad!" He looked at Emma as he spoke, and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Remus sighed, setting his tea cup down with a _clink_. "Not _that_ kind of kiss, I'm sorry to say," he said sadly. "A Dementor is a foul, loathsome, possibly demonic creature, born of hatred, despair and and cruelty! They feed on memories and emotions, their mere presence forcing all people near them to relive their worst memories over and over."

"That's revolting!" Emma said, clearly disgusted.

"Oh, it gets worse," Kingsley said, as he slid one arm around his lover's shoulders, and gripped Harry's forearm with his free hand. "Besides the forced negative memory recall, a Dementor's mere presence sucks out all positive, happy memories. The longer, and closer, the contact, the more good, decent, joyful memories are lost... permanently."

"And that's not the worst either," Hermione added. "In the wizarding world, the existence of the soul isn't theoretical, or a matter of faith. We _know_ the human soul exists and that it's vital for life and continued existence – because a Dementor can suck it out. That's what the Kiss is, Dad. It's a demonic creature sucking out your soul, leaving nothing but an empty shell."

"A shell that breathes, lives for a while, but the person is gone," Remus added. "The body finally dies or, more commonly, is given mercy, if the family want that."

The Grangers were clinging to each other, white and sickened. "M...mercy?" Emma whispered.

"Euthanasia, Mum," Hermione explained sadly. "The Healers at St. Mungo's have a specific spell for it. A deep sleep, so deep the body stops breathing. Painless and peaceful. Once a person's been Kissed, there's no hope for recovery."

"You know abou... never mind," Remus said, frowning at the young witch.

"Wh...what about the souls? Do they...erm...'go on'? Pass over?" Dan asked, clearly horrified.

"Are you sure you want to know?" Kingsley asked back.

The Grangers exchanged a look, then both nodded firmly.

The big man shrugged. "Okay. As far as we know the Dementor that Kisses a person keeps their soul and...well..._feeds _off it is the best description."

Emma was shaking, her face slightly green. "That's _monstrous_!" She hissed. "Evil! Vile! What kind of people are you to...to...use these _demons_ to do that to other humans?"

"You need to remember ours is not a Christian, or any any other kind of religious, society," Remus said firmly. "We have no clergy, no churches, no prayers. The view of the soul is more of it being the simple animating spark of life, there's nothing sacred or mystical about it. If asked, most wizards believe there's nothing after death. Only a few, like Professor Dumbledore, speak of 'The Next Great Adventure.' For the most part the Kiss is simply seen as a way of causing death, like being shot or hanged. No more, no less."

Clearly Dan and Emma weren't accepting that. Hermione got up and went to them, hugging and being hugged by them both. "It took me a long time to understand it too," she said, her voice muffled by her mother's hair. "I _do not_ agree with it – I think it an abomination – but I understand that wizarding society, at least here in Britain, sees it the way Remus describes."

"Oddly enough, it's only in Britain you can find Dementors," Remus added. "They and Lethifolds are both driven away by a Patronus, and a Lethifold can actually be destroyed by a strong one. Lethifolds are found worldwide, with minor differences depending on region. However, no Dementor has ever been seen outside of the United Kingdom. There are a few in Ireland, but the vast majority are found here in Scotland, England and Wales. There's also no record of a Dementor ever being destroyed by anything."

"We know they can breed, Dementors," Kingsley said, "but only under specific conditions and only the strongest ones. There's currently 327 known Dementors, all stationed at Azkaban, the wizarding prison."

Emma, clinging to her husband and daughter, stared at the big Auror. "So... you're saying not only are criminals in your world sent to some isolated prison, while there, they are endlessly tortured, lose their lives' worth of memories and may even lose their souls?"

"Yes," Kingsley said bluntly. "The presence of the Dementors prevents the prisoners from using their magic, rendering them helpless, otherwise we'd have few options as far as controlling them goes."

Dan sighed, running his fingers through his graying hair. "All of this makes me realize just how different our worlds are," he said. "If this, and your world, became common knowledge you'd be wiped out in a heartbeat. Evil done in the name of good is still evil. I can't begin to put into words how utterly revolted I am about what you've told us. Before, I was bewildered, a bit lost, a bit frightened of your world, worried about losing my little girl into it, into somewhere her mother and I couldn't follow her."

He looked up at Hermione, then gently cupped her face in his hands. "Now," he almost whispered, "now, I detest your world. I think it an evil, frightening place, filled with corruption both temporal and spiritual. I consider your leaders, their morals and ethics, beyond questionable. And, if they are considered the good, then this Voldemort of yours must be horrifying indeed."

He smiled sadly at his daughter. "If I could Hermione, I'd take you and Emma as far from here as possible. Part of me is willing to leave this midden of a society to drown in it's own degradation and filth...but I can't. You are a witch, and a beautiful, moral and honorable person, and I know young Harry here, and Remus and Kingsley, are too. I have to believe there are others worth helping, others who find these abominations as foul as I or your mother do, even if not for quite the same reason."

"There are, Dan," Harry spoke up, his face sad, his eyes haunted. "Every time I'm near a Dementor, I hear my mum pleading with Voldemort not to kill me, and then him murdering her. I've seen what twelve years in Azkaban did to my Godfather. I think the Dementors will join Voldemort because he'll happily give them what they want."

He stood up abruptly, clutching the back of his chair so tightly his knuckles gleamed white. "When I fight him, I'll also be fighting them...and other evil things he'll have with him...and I have no idea how I'm supposed to do that."

All the others stared at him, various degrees of shock on their faces.

"What do you mean when you fight him?" Hermione asked at last. "That sounds like you think you're the only one who can kill him or something, and that's just silly. You're still at school. You're only just turning sixt..."

Her voice died as she looked at her friend's anguished face, at the tears in his emerald eyes.

"What the fuck is going on?" Remus growled. "Was it that letter you got?"

Harry slowly turned to look at his mentor and friend. "No! The letter was from Sirius. Read it. He said to show it to you. You all need to read it. I thought I had to do all of it alone, I was told I had to...but I can't. Just read it then come to the library. I need... I need a few minutes."

With that, Harry strode out of the kitchen. Both Remus and Hermione went to follow but were stopped by Kingsley and Emma.

"Respect his wishes," Dan said, his eyes on the kitchen door. "Remus, you read the letter out, then we'll all go talk to Harry."

-I--

When they all entered the library they found Harry standing by the tapestry. He pointed to it. "I first saw that Sirius' name was back, with a connecting line to me as Harry James Potter-Black, but look, Andromeda Tonks is repaired too, so Sirius must have done something about her being kicked out for marrying that Muggleborn."

"It seems he's also adopted you," Remus said quietly. "I knew he wanted to. That's most likely the reason he was so emphatic about you going to Gringott's, to complete the adoption. If the Malfoys, or even Dumbledore, got wind of this before it's finalized, they'd do everything possible to try and stop it."

"The Malfoys?" Dan asked, glancing at his wife. "Wasn't it a Malfoy you slapped once sweetie?" He added, looking at Hermione, who had her arms around Harry's waist, his head resting on his shoulder.

"Yes Dad, Draco Malfoy, a foul mouthed, evil little cockroach who thinks he's God's gift to the world, and calls me Mudblood because I'm a first generation witch, while his family has been marrying their cousins for twenty generations." Harry gave a muffled snort of amusement at her description, making Hermione smile.

"His father Lucius is a dangerous piece of work," Kingsley said. "He's the epitome of wizarding aristocracy, very wealthy, very smooth. He's a Death Eater who managed to avoid prosecution in the first war by claiming he'd been _Imperio_ed. However, he was caught at the Ministry at the time Sirius died. In the past, he's managed to wriggle out of everything because of the bribes he's paid. Fudge thinks the sun shines out his inbred arse."

"His wife Narcissa was a Black. She and her sisters, Andromeda and Bellatrix," Remus spat out the last name, "were Sirius' cousins. Andi married for love, a very fine Muggleborn wizard named Ted Tonks – and was promptly disinherited. Bella married Rudolphus Lestrange, a sadistic bastard with a mile long pedigree but little money, who has followed Voldemort for years. Cissy wed Lucius in the society do of its day. She's a cold, cold woman, always walks around with an expression of distaste on her face, like she smelled something nasty."

"Bellatrix is a sadistic killer," Kingsley took up the description as Remus paused for breath. "She spent years in Azkaban after the first war for torturing two Aurors into insanity. They were young Neville Longbottom's parents. She was liberated, along with her husband and several others some time ago, and turned up at the Ministry with Lucius. While Malfoy, her husband and nine others were captured there, thanks in part to Harry and your daughter, she escaped. She is He Who Must Not Be Named's torturer of choice, she gets off on causing pain and has no remorse or mercy in her."

"Andi, on the other hand," Remus said, smiling at his partner, "is a lovely, kind woman, cultured, well bred and charming. Ted is a good bloke and their daughter is an Auror."

"What a bizarre family!" Emma said, frowning. 'So how is it the Malfoys could interfere with Sirius' Will?"

"The Blacks are patrilineal," Remus explained. "Sirius' brother died without issue as did Sirius...except he adopted Harry. I'm betting he's made arrangements for a blood adoption ceremony, meaning Harry will take in some of his blood, making him Sirius' heir by law, blood and magic. If Harry doesn't complete the ceremony, Narcissa has grounds to contest on behalf of her son – the next nearest male heir."

"I gather the Black estate is substantial?" Dan asked shrewdly.

"Very," Remus agreed.

"I don't want his money," Harry snarled, pulling away from Hermione. "I don't want anything from his death!"

"If you don't take what Sirius wants to give you, it all goes to Draco," Remus said bluntly, "and Narcissa will give it all to Voldemort."

That hung in the air and Harry scowled, until finally his shoulders hunched and tears sprang up in his eyes. "I don't want it," he whispered, and all the others gathered around him holding him between them as he cried.

Finally he calmed and in a dead voice told them how Dumbledore had locked him in his office after he'd seen Sirius die, how he'd smashed up the room, how Dumbledore had then told him the prophecy and laid the weight of being a murderer on his shoulders, along with the fate of the entire wizarding world.

He then continued on, describing how he'd been told to keep it to himself, that his special power was supposedly love, and that it had been Snape who had overheard the first half of the prophecy, told his master and set the whole awful chain of events in motion. As his voice cracked and wavered, he told them the prophesy, how he had been tortured by Umbridge, ignored by Dumbledore, mind-raped by Snape and tricked by Voldemort.

Finally, he told them how he'd seen the attack by Nagini on Mr. Weasley, Dumbledore's fears that Voldemort could possess him and thus spy on Albus and the Order, and finally the horror of Voldemort actually possessing him briefly in the Department of Mysteries.

Emma and Hermione were both sobbing, Dan looked furious, Kingsley was pale and stunned while the normally stoic Remus was boiling mad.

"I'm going to kill him!" He snarled, his eyes a feral yellow, his wolf so close to the surface the others could smell it. "I'm going to gut him and strangle him with his own intestines! Then, I'm going to skin Snape alive!"

"No Remus, you're not,' Dan snapped, "as that would only see you put down like some rabid dog. Harry needs all of us clear-headed and functional, not rampaging all over the place like bloodthirsty idiots!"

The two men locked eyes, but it was the werewolf who dropped his gaze first. "You're right Dan, you're right," he sighed, pulling a clean hankie from a pocket and handing it to Hermione, who ignored her own wet cheeks in favor of wiping Harry's.

"Come on everyone. Let's sit down and discuss this calmly," Dan added, suiting action to words by steering Emma into a chair. The others followed, Harry flopping onto the rug in front of the fire, Hermione choosing to sit beside him. Remus and Kingsley sat together on the couch, the werewolf resting his head on his lover's broad shoulder as he calmed down.

Emma lent forward and placed Sirius' letter on the table in the center. "How accurate is prophecy?" She asked at last. "How much faith can we place in it?"

Remus sighed. 'Normally, I'd have my doubts, but in a way what we think doesn't really matter. Clearly, both Dumbledore and Voldemort believe it and both have acted accordingly."

"Well Voldemort sure marked me!" Harry said, touching his scar. "According to Dumbledore, it could have been either Nev or me, but Voldemort chose me."

"Then if the prophecy is to be believed, you're Voldemort's equal right now," Dan said, "maybe not in experience, but in power."

"His coming after you so often has certainly forced you to develop more rapidly than your peers," Remus said thoughtfully.

"Huh," Harry grunted. "I'm nothing special, my O.W.L's were average, I'm nowhere near as smart as Hermione."

"Actually Harry, that's not entirely true," Hermione said pensively.

"I agree," Remus added, "your corporeal Patronus at age thirteen being a case in point.'

Harry shook his head. "That took me ages to learn," he said, "and the only reason it worked down by the lake was because I'd seen my other time-turned self so I knew I could do it."

Remus turned to his lover. "Shack, how many Aurors can do a corporeal Patronus?"

The big man thought for a moment. "A third of us, maybe a bit more," he said at last, "and that's _way_ ahead of the general magical population."

"Your parents couldn't do one until after they had turned twenty. All of us in the Order are taught how to do them but not all of us can," Remus said.

"Mum and Dad had Patroni?" Harry asked eagerly and Remus smiled.

"Indeed they did – a beautiful pair of Griffins, a female for James and a male for Lily, but they had failed to make more than vapor in seventh year, when the spell is normally taught at Hogwarts."

"But I taught most of the D.A to produce Patroni!" Harry exclaimed. "It can't be that hard!"

"What?" Remus was taken aback.

"Huh?" Shack added, equally amazed.

"Here, I'll show you," Hermione grinned, drawing her wand. Within moments her svelte silver otter was nosing about in the Library, before disappearing in a cloud of sparkles.

"I'm... I'm... totally amazed!" Remus spluttered, Shack simply nodding.

"Cho Chang has a swan, Susan Bones a terrier, Neville a bear and Luna a snorkack," Harry explained.

"A what?" Remus asked, bemused.

"A crumple-horned snorkack,' Hermione said, smiling. "I'm not convinced they really exist but her Patronus is one."

"Most of the rest of the D. A can create large vapor shields," Harry said. "We worked on them for weeks."

"How remarkable," Remus mused. "You must be a truly excellent teacher!"

"He is," Hermione said proudly, "and that's part of the reason I think he's much stronger and better at magic than me."

"Don't be silly Hermione! You know at least ten times the number of spells I do," Harry protested.

"I think that's because you hide your light under a bushel," the young witch explained.

"Huh?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You just don't try. Ron could always distract you into goofing off. During the Tri-Wizard, you showed excellent research skills, a rapid acquisition of new spells, several of which were quite advanced, and your memory was just fine. If you'd only taken Arithmancy and Runes with me instead of that useless Divination."

"I... I... did all those things?"

"The Patronus you cast at those Slytherins during the Quidditch match in third year was amazing," Remus said "as was your summoning of your broom during the Tri-Wizard from almost a mile away."

"He did what?" Shack demanded, and the other two explained.

The big Auror turned a piercing stare upon Harry. "I've never heard of anyone being able to do that," he said quietly. "Summoning something that big that far is supposedly impossible."

"Hermione taught me," Harry said defensively. "She can do it too."

"Ummm...actually Harry, I can't. I tried doing an equivalent after the tournament was over, but the furthest I could do was a couple hundred yards – as long as it was line of sight."

Harry stared at her. "Really?"

She nodded. "Really. I knew from first year you were special, I just didn't know why."

"Might I ask a personal question?" Dan interjected.

"I guess," Harry agreed, a trifle ungraciously.

Dan smiled. "Not too personal, I promise. When you were with your cousins, did they encourage you to read, to do well in school?"

Harry shook his head. "Any time my marks were better than Dudley's, I was punished," he said, bitterness coloring his voice. "One time in fourth grade, I aced a math test. The teacher thought I'd somehow cheated and when my aunt and uncle found out, I was locked in my cupboard without food for a week."

"Therein lies the problem," Dan said. "You learned not to learn. Your parents, I gather, were both brilliant, gifted and powerful." He looked at Remus for confirmation and the werewolf nodded. "Well then, you clearly have the inborn genetic ability, you just need the confidence to try," Dan continued calmly.

"That kind of negative early conditioning is tough to overcome," Emma added, "but with help, and with you keeping an open mind, you can overcome it."

Before Harry could say anything in response, Hermione gasped, one hand going to her mouth. "Oh no!" She said sharply. "He wouldn't have! He couldn't have!"

"He who?" Harry asked, confused.

"What is it Hermione?" Remus demanded.

The young witch was pale and looked close to tears. "Remus, can you or Shack check Harry for bindings or blocks on his magic?"

Remus stared at her for a long moment then turned to Harry. "May I?" he asked, gesturing with his wand.

"Yeah... I guess so," Harry agreed.

Several minutes of complex wand waving later, Remus sat back down with a snarl of anger, his blue eyes tinged with yellow, his tired, scarred face drawn. "How did you know?" He demanded, staring at Hermione. Shack got up and moved behind him, placing his hands on Remus' shoulders. firmly massaging them until the tense werewolf sighed and slumped in his seat.

"I didn't," Hermione whispered, "not for sure. It was Mum saying Harry needed to keep an open mind. The thought just popped in – what if his magic was being forced to be less? What if his access to his magic, to learning in general, was blocked? What if the reason he had those sudden intensely powerful outbursts was because only extreme situations allowed him to truly touch his magic?"

The young witch paused, her brilliant mind processing what they were saying, making connections, linking various events, pieces of information, observations.

Harry watched, fascinated. He never got tired of this – of seeing Hermione do her 'thing'. It was a sight to behold.

Dan and Emma watched their daughter, knowing she was at the edge of something important, just not what, their love and pride obvious.

Remus and Kingsley waited silently, trading glances as Hermione chewed her lip in thought. When she finally focused on Remus' face, she had tears in her eyes.

"What if," she whispered, "his ability to defend his mind had been circumvented, preventing him learning occlumency, no matter how hard he tried? What if he was set up for repeated mind-rape with no hope of ever stopping it?"

Remus sighed again and stared at the now crying witch before turning to Harry who was only just registering what his friend had said.

Dan again raised his hand and everyone looked at him. "Ummm...occluwhat?"

"Occlumency, Dan, is the art of mental defense, of shielding one's thoughts and memories so a Legimens can't read them or probe for information. It's also a way of ordering one's mind to facilitate learning, retention of information, and dealing with one's past experiences," Remus explained. "Dumbledore said Harry had to learn it, and as the lessons might have allowed Voldemort to see through Harry into his teacher's mind, Albus said he couldn't risk being that teacher, as he had all the Order stuff in his head. He gave the job to Snape."

"Isn't he the one who hates Harry?" Emma asked. "I'm sure Hermione has told us about his abusive behavior."

"That's him," Harry said bitterly. "The lessons were a joke. I just wish I had a pensive so I could show you what he did, as well as all the stuff with Dumbledore about the prophecy."

"I do," Kingsley said softly. "I'll be right back."

With that, the big Auror strode to the fireplace, tossed in some floo powder and was gone in a swirl of emerald fire.

Only a few minutes later, he stepped out again, a large, highly polished stone bowl in his hands. "Had it checked out of Resources to review some testimony in a case I'm handling," he explained, setting his burden down on top of Sirius' letter. "It's a projecting model so everyone will be able to see the memories without having to enter them."

The next couple of hours were unpleasant. Harry, with some encouragement, shared many of his memories – the Dursleys, Quirrellmort, the basilisk, the Dementors at the lake, the graveyard at Little Hangleton, the events with Barty Crouch Jr, Umbridge and the blood quill, Snape's so-called lessons, both potions and Occlumency, the vision of Nagini attacking Arthur Weasley, the battle in the Department of Mysteries, Sirius' death, his pursuit of Bellatrix, his possession by Voldemort, and, finally, the scene in Dumbledore's office as he was told the prophesy.

Remus added his memories of the face-off with Pettigrew in the Shrieking Shack, several conversations he'd had with Sirius about Harry, and finally, Dumbledore making him promise to stay away from infant Harry at the Dursley's.

When the memory show was over, the Grangers wordlessly embraced Harry who was shaking violently. All three of them held him, rocked him, Dan rubbed his back while Emma gently ran her fingers through his wild black hair, his head resting on Hermione's shoulder.

Harry slowly calmed in the warmth, with the touches, the unmistakable love cocooning him. It was heaven to give up the endless appearance of strength, to just let someone else take the burden, even for only a brief while. He reveled in the trust and support, relaxing into their embrace until he was almost boneless and purring, not unlike Crookshanks with Hermione.

It was bliss – but it couldn't last.

Finally, he pulled away and they let him go, all three studying him carefully.

"You certainly seem to be getting the hang of hugging," Hermione commented.

"Finally!" A smiling Remus chipped in.

Harry mock-glared at his uncle then grabbed him in a bear hug, that squeezed a loud "Oof!" out of the startled werewolf. "I'm just making up for lost time," Harry said cheekily.

Shacklebolt studied the slender teen in front of him and shook his head. "You've seen as much, if not more, than any Senior Auror," he said, "and I for one, am amazed by you. Killing that thing with a bloody _sword_? _At twelve_? Driving off more than a hundred Dementors? Shit! I just about wet myself with one!"

He got up and began walking around the group of chairs, his expression forbidding. He stopped behind Dan, directly opposite Harry. "That ritual in the graveyard was some of the darkest necromancy I've ever seen, heard of or read about. He Who Must Not Be Named is now little more than a homunculus, and they, in all their forms, have been declared Anathema by every wizarding government in the I.W.C. To have, or make, one is an immediate death sentence, no ifs, buts or maybes. The spells, rituals and ingredients are beyond awful. Whatever was in that cauldron, it wasn't water, even if it looked like it. How many innocents died to make it, I hate to think."

Everyone watched in silence as the big man paced about some more, clearly gathering his thoughts. He dropped to his haunches in front of Harry so they were eye to eye. 'I've been an Auror for over twenty years, first in South Africa, then here when I moved to Britain with my sister. I've seen the most terrible, frightening things in Africa, things Wizards here can't begin to imagine. I've also seen many different kinds of evil here that have often left me sickened. What you've been through, from such a young age, should have destroyed you, Harry, yet it hasn't. I will never again make the mistake of thinking you a child. I will never again withhold aid or information from you due to your physical age. You are a warrior, an adult, and I pledge myself to follow and support you."

As he spoke, a brilliant spark of golden light shot from the center of his chest to strike Harry right over the heart, jolting him.

Harry was gobsmacked. He stared into Shack's dark face, his intense black eyes, and knew he was deadly serious. A rustle of fabric drew his attention to Remus, who knelt beside his lover, his thin, handsome face set and determined, his blue eyes blazing.

"Shack's right Harry. You are, without a doubt, a man. You may still have some emotional growing to do, but as far as life experiences go, you're clearly an adult. I can't begin to tell you how proud I am of you, how proud your parents and Sirius would be. I too pledge myself to follow you, to support you in anyway I can."

A second pulse of gold light shot from werewolf to teen, making both of them jump.

To one side, the Grangers were communing silently with each other as only close family can do. As Remus finished his speech, they rose in a group and all knelt to Shack's left, Hermione in front. "We totally agree with them," she said, her warm brown eyes full of the intelligence and strength that defined her. Harry stared at her face, the familiar curves, her untamed hair, the loveliness that was his friend – his sister of choice.

"I also pledge myself to you, Harry. You are my brother in all the ways that matter. I love you and trust you. I will never willingly leave you. I will do everything I can to help you defeat Voldemort..._and survive_," she said fiercely, the now familiar golden spark jumping from her to Harry.

"We're not magical," Dan added, "but Emma and I consider you as much our child as Hermione. And for what it's worth, we too pledge ourselves to supporting you. Whatever role we can play in this upcoming war, we will, willingly. We want you to live son, and be happy. To achieve that, Voldemort clearly has to go."

"Absolutely!" Emma said forcefully. "We can never replace James and Lily, but like Dan said, you are a son to us, and parents fight for their children. No way are you going into this without us!"

As the words left her lips, two sparks leaped from the Grangers to Harry, slightly smaller and less bright, but nevertheless there.

"Did you see that?" Hermione squeaked, her eyes wide as Remus and Shack grinned at her.

"Well, I certainly felt it!" Harry grouched, rubbing his chest, a smile lighting his emerald eyes.

Emma was as amazed as he daughter. "What was that? How did Dan and I do that? What does it mean?"

Harry poked Hermione in the ribs. "I think I see where you get you get the ability to ask a string of questions without needing to breathe," he said, and the young witch huffed at him, a matching smile on her face.

"That was a magically binding pledge," Remus explained, clapping Dan on the back, "but as Muggles, I have no idea how the two of you did it. As to what it means..."

"It is meaning yous are all liege men of Harry Potter sir," Dobby's squeaky voice cut in. "And yous is all now bound by magic to help Harry Potter sir defeat the Evil One."

Everyone spun around to see Dobby and Winky standing together just inside the library door, holding hands and looking unusually determined.

"What do you mean by liege men, Dobby?" Dan asked, before anyone else could.

"Dobby is saying yous have all taken oath to Harry Potter sir as Lord Potter, Patriarch of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter," the Elf explained, his huge eyes almost popping from his head. "Harry Potter sir is turning sixteen today, and that was the age of being grown, not seventeen, and that is why the oath has power."

"Sirs and Misses have bound yourselves," Winky added, her squeaky voice higher pitched than usual. "Winky and Dobby is feeling the magic, we is, even in the attic."

"Liege men, like in the Middle Ages, with knights and kings and lords and stuff?" Harry asked, suddenly horrified by the thought his family, the people he loved and was determined to keep safe, were now magically bound to throw themselves at Voldemort to protect him instead.

"Yes Harry Potter sir," Dobby agreed. "They is now serving House Potter and must be using their skills to help you win."

"But... but... _NO_!"

Harry leaped out of his chair, ashen faced. "No! No, I won't let you! I won't have you all die for me. I can't! _I WON'T!"_ The last was screamed and a wave of raw magical energy poured out of him, literally knocking everyone off their feet, blasting out the library windows and trashing all the furniture within a ten-foot range of the distraught teen.

With amazing agility, Winky caught the flying Pensieve, while Dobby flung out his hands towards his beloved master...and clicked his fingers.

Immediately Harry found himself floating in mid-air encased in a blue bubble of magic, his own out of control magic washing back on him from the barrier, very painfully.

"You is needing to control your power Harry Potter sir,' Dobby squeaked, 'or you is going to hurt yourself."

"Please Harry," Remus yelled, "the house's protection can only hide so much. If you don't calm down, the Ministry will record the outburst and it could negate the _Fidelius_!'

Harry snarled, shouted and even tried to stomp, but the bubble didn't move and every bit of uncontrolled magic he released simply slammed back into him, getting progressively more painful.

Meanwhile, the elves helped everyone up, Remus and Shack healing the numerous scrapes, bruises and cuts that had been sustained.

With multiple _Repairo'_s, Shack put the windows back while Dobby repaired the furniture. Winky put the precious Pensieve, all the memories still swirling inside, onto the once again whole table, then, like a tiny whirling dervish, removed any sign of the previous devastation.

When all was returned to normal, even Sirius' letter and Harry's precious photo album, everyone stopped to look up at the bubble, to see Harry curled up in a fetal ball, silent and unmoving. Dobby clicked his fingers again and the bubble vanished, Harry floating gently down to the floor,

Remus got to him first, dropping onto the carpet and gathering his unresisting form into his lap.

"What did Dobby do?" Emma asked, sotto voce to Shack, Dan and Hermione hovering nearby.

"It's an Elf spell, normally used to teach young children to control their magical outbursts," Shack explained. "It's a way of helping kids to develop self-discipline and to feel their magic. It's used mostly among Pureblood families."

"Like the Malfoys?" Hermione asked, and the Auror nodded.

"Exactly. They and other Pures use Elves almost exclusively to raise their children, as nannies and teachers. If the children misbehave, the parents have the Elves punish them, even beat them. It's one of the reasons many adult witches and wizards treat Elves so badly."

"Because of horrible childhood memories," Hermione gasped, incensed. "That's _awful_!"

Shack nodded and sighed. "Honey, its been that way for generations."

Hermione was all set for a full-on rant when Dan grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her to face Remus. "Oh!" She exclaimed. "Harry!" The Grangers moved as one to the seated werewolf to find him rocking a silently weeping Harry.

"Harry, none of us are going to do anything foolish," they heard Remus say. "We all want to help you. We know you have to be the one to actually end Voldemort, but we can help. We can teach you, research things, help with planning, fight beside you. Someone has to deal with the Death Eaters while you punch Voldemort's ticket. You can't do everything yourself!"

Harry said something inaudible to all but the werewolf, who jerked back in surprise. "What? You think you'll be a murderer? Harry! What a load of troll dung! Yes, you will have to kill Voldemort. Yes, you might well kill others of his followers, but so will we all. A murderer kills for pleasure, for selfish personal gain, for power, to cause, grief, pain and suffering. A murderer enjoys killing. You won't. Are all soldiers murderers? Are Shack and I? Yes Harry, we've both killed - in the first war, and Shack later in the line of duty. So did your parents, Sirius and Neville's parents too. So has Arthur Weasley. Are we all murderers?"

Harry violently shook his head.

"Has this been eating away at you, sweetie?" Emma asked softly, crouching down beside Remus.

Harry, his eyes full of pain and self-loathing looked at her and nodded. "That...and more of you dying for me, like Mum and Dad did, and Sirius, and poor bloody Cedric! I couldn't stand it, couldn't bear it, if any of you died!"

Emma sighed, stroking his hair. "None of us will do anything too stupid. I can't promise you I won't die, I might have a heart attack or something. We're all going to die one day, but none of us want it to be soon."

"The sad fact is people die during war, son," Dan cut in, "and this seems to certainly be a war that's coming. Would we sacrifice ourselves for you if needed? Yes, so you could destroy that monster. The cold bitter fact is we are dispensable – you aren't."

"We don't want to die Harry," Hermione said, "plus by pledging ourselves to you we need to live to be able to help you, so none of us are going to throw our lives away. You need to accept that."

Harry looked at her, at her parents, at Remus and Shack – and his heart trembled. How could he possibly bear it if any of them died because of him? How could he go on without them?

The same way you went on as an infant, a little voice whispered in his heart, as you did after Cedric and Sirius. Because you must.

Why must I? He cried silently. Why me? Why is it always me?

Why ever not you? The voice asked reasonably. Who else would you trust to do this properly? Who else would you trust to do everything, absolutely _everything _to protect those you love?

It was if a brilliant light went on in the depths of his soul. Who indeed? Who else would willingly go to the lengths he would to save both those he loved and other innocents, even total strangers?

Who. other than the young man who was the totality of all the experiences he'd had to date, the things that had shaped him, molded him, into the person he was?

Who else but Harry Potter could do what was needed?

No one, because no one else had lived his life, because no one else had experienced all that he had.

In that moment, Harry accepted his fate, he accepted the prophecy, the burden, the responsibility. He accepted the reason for his birth, and knew that it wasn't the whole of his life – only one stage. There was hope of a time after Voldemort, a time where he would be free. He would live and fight for his right to have that time – no matter what.

For a single shining instant it was as if Time, the Universe itself, held it's breath. Then there was a '_click'_, a subtle shift in everything, as if his decision had somehow moved the entirety of creation, just a fraction, onto a new path with a new set of potentialities.

It was immense, intense and gut-wrenching. Harry felt it in every fiber of his being and somehow knew it was right. That it had been necessary – and overdue.

Hermione shivered, looking around nervously, all the others equally uncomfortable. "What just happened?" She asked. "Something happened...I know it did."

"Harry Potter sir is accepting his task," Dobby said from behind them. "He is becoming what he must be. We is lucky, we is, to be sharing this."

"You're right Dobby," Harry agreed, straightening up to lean against his uncle's chest. "I do accept what I have to do." He looked at all his loved ones, drawing strength from their support. "I need to do what Sirius said in his letter," he said with determination. "Dobby, Winky, please get tea ready for twenty people. Remus, please firecall Bill, and please get him, Charlie and the twins here. Shack, can you go get Tonks, her parents, Madam Bones and Mad-Eye if you can? Remus, once you've done the Weasleys, please contact Madam Longbottom, Neville, the Lovegoods and Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, and invite them here. Grangers, please get this room set up so everyone coming can see those memories. And Hermione, please copy Sirius' letter to be handed out. I need a shower and change of clothes."

With a hand up from Shack, Harry and Remus got up off the floor, the others following. Harry looked around at his Liege men. "As soon as we've completed the meeting, we're going directly to Gringott's to speak to Hackblade, just as Sirius said to. I want to go through the blood adoption today, on my birthday. I _will not_ allow the Black fortune to go to the Malfoys and Voldemort."

Remus rested his hand on Harry's shoulder for a moment, studying his face, the new fire of determination in his eyes. "It's not much of a sixteenth birthday," he said.

Harry shook his head. "It doesn't matter. We can always have a party later, perhaps tonight after Mrs Weasley, Ron and Ginny arrive."

Remus nodded. "I agree," then he glanced at the others. "Right everyone, you heard him! Chop, chop!"

Everyone scattered. Shack disappeared through the floo so Remus could use it for the firecalls, the elves popped off to the kitchen while Hermione rallied her parents.

Harry, a warmth of conviction in his heart, a sense of lightness he hadn't felt since Sirius had died, a true sense of purpose and direction focusing his mind, raced off upstairs to change.

-I--

In the parlor of a featureless house on the fringe of a small, insignificant English village, a short, balding man with a silver hand groveled on the floor at the foot of a throne-like chair.

On the chair sat a nightmarish creature, skeletally thin, hairless, with slick, white flesh, glowing red slit-pupiled eyes, and extremely long, bony fingers that clutched the the arms of the throne. It? He? Wore black robes, glints of gold embroidery at the neck and hem, and numerous bejeweled rings adorning his emaciated hands.

He stared down at the pitiful slave before him and slowly smiled, a sight that made the groveling man whimper with terror. "Why have you not obeyed me, Wormtail?" He asked, his voice a deep, sibilant hiss. "Why do you not know where Potter's Mudblood whore and her parents are? Are you..._defying_ me, Wormtail?"

"N...no... Master! N...never! Forgive me, I b...beg you! Their business is shut, their house abandoned, even the furnishings are gone. No one has seen them for weeks. Th... they must have g... gone into hiding, Master! Nothing is being said about them at Hog...Hogwarts, nothing is b...being said anywhere!"

Wormtail threw himself flat on the floor, his twitching fingers grasping the hem of the black robes before him, sweat beading his pasty, hagged face.

"It appears you have been thorough, yet still you do not have the information I require," the voice of his master declared, and he very nearly lost control of his bladder as a wand tip pressed into the back of his skull.

"Should I punish you, Wormtail? Or should Lord Voldemort be merc..._What was that_?"

Wormtail dared to glance up at his master, to see him sitting bolt-upright, an expression of mingled shock, confusion and even a touch of fear on his snake-like face. "M...Master?"

"Didn't you feel that, you fool?" Voldemort demanded with a snarl, his crimson eyes boring into the watery blue orbs of his servant.

"Feel wh...what, Master?"

"It was like everything stopped, for just a fraction of a moment, and then resettled, but not quite in the same place," Voldemort mused. "Something or someone, somewhere, of immense power just declared themselves. I must discover which, for they must serve me. Oh, and Wormtail? _Crucio!_"

-I--

In the Headmaster's office of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a phoenix was dozing on a perch, while Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Supreme Mugwump blah blah blah, sat at his desk, tending to the neverending pile of paperwork. On the walls, the painted images of his predecessors chatted among themselves, while up on it's shelf, the Sorting Hat hummed the song it was creating for the approaching start of the new school year. Numerous little silver devices, dotted here and there about the office, either sat silently, or spun, tinkled and chimed.

Sunlight poured in through the open windows, along with the sweet-scented air of summer. All was well...

Until one of the silent silver devices coughed into life, squirted out a huge cloud of purple smoke then melted into a pool of slag.

At the same moment, Fawkes gave a raucous squawk and nearly fell of his perch, and had to flap his wings frantically to maintain his balance and dignity, before he vanished in a burst of flame.

Albus Dumbledore felt his entire world stop, then shift subtly, all in the blink of an eye. It was a most disconcerting sensation.

He was startled by the phoenix's abrupt departure, but downright shaken by the self-destruction of the soul scanner he had linked to Harry Potter.

It seemed that his weapon, his carefully cultivated dupe, had just woken up...

A/N: Hi, everybody! waves enthusiastically Wasn't that chapter just fun? I tried to cut it down but it didn't really work, but it will be important. Thanks to everyone who left reviews, and **PLEASE PUT IN MORE** because that makes me write faster. And to the many, many fans who have favorited me, _KAWAIII! _


	3. Revelations and Demands

**Chapter Three: Revelations and Demands.**

A/N: Whoop-dee-doo, another chapter for you! But before I start, I'd like to thank a few people for their lovely reviews. Gold Banshee, jkarr and jabarber69. You guys are so cool for reviewing.

Anyway, I don't own anything from this story, it is all the work of Goddess J.K.R. I only own the plot. This fic is A. U. All is canon until the end of OotP, then all bets are off.

--

_It was the early hours of the morning and the village of Hogsmeade lay dark and quiet. Here and there, dim candlelight glowed behind closed curtains and blinds, occasionally a dog barked, and the early risers of the avian population twittered in garden and hedgerow. _

_Buildings creaked in the wind as it twisted between them, carrying the smells of moist earth, dew-drenched trees and grass, and the faint scent of some animals – mostly chickens, goats and a few pigs. _

_Here and there shadowy shapes moved, glowing eyes reflecting the moonlight. For such a small village, Hogsmeade was the home for a large, robust population of cats._

_The sign hanging outside The Hogshead Inn swung, squeaking in the wind. No lights shone behind the shuttered windows, no cats slunk on silent paws around its walls, nor among the numerous sheds, pens and outhouses behind the main building. _

_All was as silent as the grave – including the very large black dog making its way from the line of trees behind the inn, through an unlatched gate into the rear cobbled yard, across that from deep shadow to deep shadow – until it reached the back door of the inn proper. _

_Here, it paused for a moment, before it's outline blurred and shifted from standard canine to far-from standard Grim, the spectral ghost-dog, haunter of crossroads, harbinger of death and ill-fortune._

_The Grim, eyes glowing red, drifted up to the locked and barred door of the Hogshead – and right through it, into the inn itself. _

"_'bout time you got 'ere," a harsh voice commented, and the Grim jumped a good foot in the air, whipping around as a lantern was uncovered a crack, allowing a sliver of light to illuminate the speaker._

_He was revealed as a tall, raw-boned, elderly man with a chest-length gray, wispy beard, and a heavily lined face dominated by piercing pale blue eyes. He was dressed in a thread-bare, none-too-clean brown robe and bright green carpet slippers._

_The Grim solidified back into the big black mutt and gave the man a look of disgust, making him chuckle._

"_Come on then, they're 'ere, waitin' for yer," he said. "I put 'em in the parlor. No windows there, for pryin' eyes. Be quick though. M' neighbors are right early risers."_

_With that, the old man led the way into the depths of the inn, finally stopping outside an age-darkened oak door. He tapped on it, then opened it, letting the dog slip past him into the room beyond...only it was no dog that strode across the room towards the cheerfully blazing fire and the two people seated before it._

_Sirius Black flicked back his long hair and straightened his robes as he approached the two individuals who were so vital to his plans. Seated to the the right of the fireplace, Minerva McGonagall watched him like a hawk, her lips pressed in a thin line. On a bench opposite her, Rubeus Hagrid drank noisily from his usual barrel-like mug, before also looking at the new-comer._

"_I do hope you have a truly excellent reason for all this skulduggery," Minerva said in a waspish tone, the one she used to such effect on errant students. "Stealing about, not informing the Headmaster...what are you up to, Sirius Black?" She locked eyes with him, intending to have the upper hand from the start over her ex-student. _

_He sighed. "Minerva, I haven't been your pupil for years, twelve of which were spent in Azkaban. You no longer intimidate me, I'm sorry to say, as I've met much, _MUCH_ worse than you," Sirius said quietly, and Minerva had the grace to look away, a spot of color in each thin cheek._

"_Right, now that's dealt with, I asked the two of you to meet me like this for only one reason – to help Harry," Sirius continued. "As Order members, you both know the part of the Prophecy Snake Face does, and it doesn't take a genius to work out that my Godson is the linchpin, the prime target, the major player on our side."_

_''E's nobbut a lad," Hagrid commented, shaking his heavy head. "A lad who needs t' be dealin' w' school, maybe a lass or two, playin' Quidditch, not all the killin' and such like." He took another massive gulp from his mug._

_Sirius stared at the huge man for a long moment, his gray eyes calm, his expression bland. "You know, Hagrid," he said at last, "your yokel gamekeeper act is almost perfect, but I'd really appreciate it if you dropped it for now. I don't have the time or patience to be waltzing around with an Unspeakable. This is too bloody important, and time is of the essence."_

"_What?" Minerva shrieked, a hand to her chest, her walking stick clattering to the floor as she jerked up-right in her seat. "What rubbish is this, Sirius? Has Azkaban totally addled your brains? This is _HAGRID_ for Merlin's sake!"_

_Sirius gave her a glance and a half smile. "Oh, I know," he said, "but first and foremost he's Ogg's apprentice, Septimus Ogg, who was an Unspeakable for over 80 years."_

_Minerva glanced from one man to another, totally flabbergasted._

"_'Ow can I be one 'o them Unspeakables?" Hagrid asked, his whole demeanor one of amazement._

"_Easy," Sirius said. "My Grandfather, Arcturus, knew your father well. They were the male Ravenclaw and Slytherin prefects of their class. Grandfather always said Raido was a brilliant, albeit eccentric man. There was no way you, his son, could be a soft-headed, near squib." _

"_Stranger things 'ave 'appened," Hagrid commented. _

"_True," Sirius agreed, "but I once overheard Septimus talking to Charlus Potter, who was another secretive sod from the bowels of the Department of Mysteries, about 'Goliath' and his usefulness up at 'St. Trinian's'. Those names caught my attention and I asked Lily about them. She explained Goliath was a giant in a book while St. Trinian's was a fictitious school of troublemakers. I put it all together." _

"_Y' always was a quick 'un," Hagrid sighed, one hand moving towards the side of the bench, where his pink umbrella was propped._

"_Please don't move any further," Sirius said, his wand appearing in his hand. "I know at least ten spells that can take you down, and I am powerful enough to cast them."_

"_Aye, I know y' are," the half giant agreed. "Right, what do you want?" _

_Minerva, white as a sheet, looked wildly from one man to the other. "Wha... what is going on? Hagrid? Is what he's saying true? Oh, I'm all a-twitter!"_

_Hagrid smiled at her, "I'm afraid it is, Minerva," he said, all trace of an accent gone from his voice. "I'm working for a branch of the Department of Mysteries, as deep-cover, watching over Hogwarts, but also keeping an eye on Dumbledore." _

"_Bu... but... Dumbledore? You're spying on _Albus Dumbledore_? Why for Merlin's sake? He's our leader, our Headmaster, the greatest wizard ever known, the only one V...Voldemort fears! It's ridiculous!"_

"_He was also Gellert Grindelwald's lover and supporter for many years as a young man," Hagrid said calmly. "He also let me, as a thirteen year old child, be the scapegoat for Tom Riddle opening the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago."_

"_He's also the one who cast James and Lily's _Fidelius_ with Pettigrew as the secret keeper," Sirius cut in, "and arbitrarily sent Harry to live ten years in misery with the Dursleys." _

_Minerva looked stricken, suddenly aging twenty years before their eyes. "Albus knew you were innocent?" She whispered, a pleading look on her face, as if begging Sirius to deny it._

_He nodded sadly. "Without having Harry to care for, I let my grief take over and went after the rat," he said, shaking his head._

"_I played a part in that," Hagrid rumbled. "I had no choice, lad. I _had _to keep my cover. I had to take young Harry to him, to _them_."_

"_I know. I pieced it all together in Azkaban. I don't blame you Hagrid. That's why I gave you my bike that night," Sirius murmured._

"_Bu... bu... you lied to me!' Minerva hissed. She lurched to her feet, and in two long strides, crossed the gap to where Hagrid sat and slapped him across the face, putting her whole body weight into it, and some magic for good measure. _

_Big as he was, the half giant was knocked arse over teakettle, he, the bench and the still partly-full tankard going down in a heap._

_Minerva stood over him, fists clenched, her spine ramrod straight, and Sirius was shocked to see the glitter of unshed tears in her eyes. "I trusted you, Rubeus John Hagrid. I talked to you, told you things...personal, private things. Are they all over the Department of Mysteries then? Part of your reports, or merely office gossip?" She spat out the last word viciously and Sirius saw Hagrid wince, mead running down his face into his beard. _

"_No Minerva! You've got the wrong end of the stick. We _are_ friends, I swear on my life and magic! I have only ever reported problems, dangers and odd occurrences. What we shared as friends was real and no concern of anyone but us, and that was so with all my other colleagues and friends too." _

"_How can you swear on your magic?" She demanded. "Your wand was snapped." _

_Sirius gave a bark of laughter. "You do know he's got the pieces of that wand in his umbrella don't you? In spite of it being broken, he can do focused, specific spellwork with it. What does that tell you about his magic?" _

_Hagrid got to his feet, righted the bench and sat down heavily. He pulled a tablecloth-sized handkerchief out of a pocket and began mopping up the sticky mead from his face and beard. "I think you need to understand something," he said, his gravelly voice oddly soft. "I am only the latest agent at Hogwarts. There's been an operative based there for centuries. Ogg's main charge was Dippet, who was a spineless twit put in the job by a powerful clique of governors. As his chosen successor, my time at the school just happened to coincide with Dumbledore's tenure as Headmaster. It could just as easily have been you or Filius Flitwick."_

_He finished wiping his beard and stuffed the hankie back in his pocket. "Like it or not, Min, Dumbledore is a significant individual with immense magical and political power. There are few obvious controls, checks or balances on him, and he is, at best, autocratic and very certain his way is the only viable one. He is also secretive, controlling and appears to be obsessed with young Harry. All of these things bear watching. Use your head woman, not your heart, not your blind faith in a man...a very human man." _

_Minerva, two flushed spots of color in her cheeks, glared at him and sputtered. "I'm not...I never...unprofessional...never in all my years...nothing to do with my heart..." _

_Hagrid raised his hand, cutting her off mid-splutter. "I'm not saying you're in love with him Min, I know where your heart lies buried," he said, giving her a small, sad smile. "I _am_ saying you are immensely loyal to those you respect and admire, sometimes blindly so when they do not deserve such faith and loyalty."_

"_The Headmaster," she snapped, standing stiff and unyielding, "is the leader of the Light and a brilliant educator..."_

"_Who has a useless ghost teaching History, a fraudulent seer poncing around in Divination and a Pureblood moron as Muggle Studies Professor, all doing jack shit for the education of our youth. Not to mention a parade of defense teachers that have been utterly cringe-worthy," Sirius interjected. "and don't get me started on Snape!" _

"_All of those are completely explainable!" she retorted, incensed._

"_Like my twelve years in Azkaban?" Sirius shot back. "Like keeping the Philosopher's Stone in a school? Like arbitrarily destroying it, condemning the Flammels to death? Like denying me my legal and moral right to raise Harry? Did you know Minerva, that the Dursleys kept Harry in a cupboard under the stairs in their house?" _

_Minerva, who had been about to say something, stopped, a look of horror on her face. "Wha... what?"_

"_You heard me – a cupboard. They would lock him in there and not feed him for up to a week at a time. He'd lie in his own filth, starving and alone. This was from the time they got him. No birthdays, no Christmas'. He actually thought his name was 'freak' until he went to school. He never had a toy or a hug, never a word of love or kindness, no nursery rhymes or bedtime stories for Harry!" Sirius' voice was icy cold with rage._

"_All he had to wear were rags from his obese cousin. He was their slave, cooking, cleaning, gardening, all from when he was tiny. He's covered in scars, Min. Burns, cuts, whippings. Why do you think he's so small for his age? Both James and Lily were tall. James was a lean, muscular man – why is Harry a stunted weed?" _

"_I told Albus they were the worst sort of Muggles imaginable," Minerva muttered, tears on her cheeks. "I should have..." _

"_Someone should have," Sirius agreed, pacing up and down. "Dumbledore put Arabella Figg into a house nearby to 'watch over' my godson. I've talked to her. She's been Obliviated so many times she's going dotty. But around the time Harry was five, she realized something was wrong and started keeping a Muggle diary. She's got photographs, notes and Muggle tapes of talks she's had with him over the years. She had told Dumbledore repeatedly of the abuse. Who do you imagine Obliviated her?" _

_Hagrid leaned forward, his expression eager. "May I get cop..." he began, only to fall silent at a ferocious glare from Sirius._

"_I also went to his school, Minerva, where Harry was systematically abused and bullied by his cousin for all the years he attended, to the point where he simply stopped trying to either learn or interact with other children. If he did better than Dudley, he was brutally punished. You might want to talk to Poppy, in your role as Harry's Head of House. His medical file is an interesting, gut-churning read. Your dear Albus knows, but has declined to do a damn thing about it and he insists on returning Harry to their tender care each and every year. Any ideas as to why?" _

_Minerva stared at him, lost for words._

_Sirius stopped pacing and bent down, resting his hands on the arms of her chair, looming over her until his face was inches from hers. "Speaking of your duties and responsibilities as Head of Gryffindor," he said, his voice deceptively soft, "did you know Dolores Umbridge was torturing Harry, and several other students, with a Class Three Dark Artifact?" _

_Her green eyes widened and she stared up into his cold gray ones, actually frightened by the sheer rage she saw there. "W-what?" she whispered, ashamed at how weak her voice was._

"_Hmmm. A blood quill, to be exact. For well over a hundred hours, that foul little bitch made my Godson carve 'I must not tell lies' into his own flesh over and over until he was permanently scarred. And what did you do, _Professor_, when Harry tried to tell you about it? Like the fine Gryffindor you are, you told him to keep his head down, his mouth shut and not make waves – _no matter what she did!_" _

_Sirius' voice had grown progressively louder as he spoke until the last part he shouted right into her face, his breath hot on her skin, little flecks of saliva spraying her. She barely registered the shocked gasp from Hagrid as she was so mortified, horrified, remembering clearly when she'd spoken those words. She'd been so busy protecting her job, egging on Peeves and the Weasley twins, so determined not to make things worse for 'poor Albus' she'd totally forgotten her primary, sacred duty - to the children in her care._

"_Sirius... I... I dinna' know," she explained, "the lad never said a word, never complained. I had no idea!" _

_Sirius stared at her in disgust. "No idea? Well, given Umbitch threatened to sack you if he complained or sought medical help – I guess he felt _he_ had to protect _you_. Bit arse backwards that, wouldn't you say? And because Harry Potter kept silent and received no aid, all the other tortured students kept mum too. Luckily, Hermione, Neville and Luna got together with the twins to provide essence of Murtlap to all those who had been hurt. Do I need to point out there wasn't a single Slytherin or Pureblood in that group?" _

"_Did...did..." she licked her dry lips and Sirius snorted._

"_Did Albus know? Oh yes, I overheard him discussing it with Snivellus at Headquarters."_

_Minerva's face was pasty white, her eyes anguished, but she pulled herself upright in her seat and looked Sirius straight in the face, making him step back a few paces. "Lord Black," she said formally, "I have failed in my duty of 'In Loco Parentis', allowing grievous bodily harm to come to your godson, Harry Potter. I hereby acknowledge my blood debt to you, his legal guardian, and through you to him. Name the Weregild required."_

_Sirius smiled thinly "Harry Potter-Black, actually. I signed the papers at Gringott's today. In two months time, when he turns sixteen, I intend to blood adopt him as my Heir Primus."_

"_Well done Sirius!" Hagrid boomed happily, startling both the others. "The lad loves you. He'll be as happy as a pig in poo!"_

_Sirius looked at the half-giant, a trifle cock-eyed. "Right...that's good, I'm guessing." _

"_Oh yes indeed! Ahhh...I'd be thrilled if I could take proof of all this, especially Umbridge's behavior, to my chief. That toad is on our 'most watched' list, and evidence of her using a C3 Dark Artifact would mean we could raid Umbridge Hall, something we and the Aurors have been itching to do for years." _

"_I'll see what I can organize," Sirius agreed. He turned to Minerva. "As to Weregild – like for like. Harry bled because of Umbitch, now you bleed for Harry. Just a few drops to add something of your skills and magical awareness to the adoption ritual. It's an ancient modification of the Rite developed by Ravenclaw herself, to help adopted children gain the skills and instincts needed when they were taken into noble families." _

_He pulled out a sealed bottle, opened it and tipped two crystal needles out into his hand. "I want blood from both of you – for Harry – and this is how we're going to get it..."_

--

In a matter of minutes, Hermione and her parents had seating for twenty arranged around the table on which the Pensieve sat, plus the same number of copies of Sirius' letter neatly stacked beside the stone bowl.

Harry, washed and changed, his hair minimally tidier, bounced back into the room just as they finished and smiled at them as he headed for Remus.

The werewolf was on his knees in front of the fireplace, his head in the green flames. "Bill! Just the man I wanted. Can you come over? I nee...oh! Hello Molly! How are you today? No, no, everything's fine. No, Harry's fine too. Actually I was calling to see if I could borrow Bill and Charlie. Why? Well, I found a book here on warding but it's in an Egyptian dialect I'm not familiar with. I want to place extra wards and Bill would be very useful. Why more? Well, better safe than sorry...and it _is_ for Harry. Yes, I totally agree. Charlie? Well, while Bill and I are doing the ward research, he can supervise Harry and Hermione as they deal with a rather decrepit ghoul and a couple of boggarts in the upstairs bathroom. Hermione was all for her and Harry dealing with them alone, but I'd rather they had some adult supervision. Oh yes, I completely agree with you. No, no need for you to worry yourself! I'm sure you're busy enough packing for the move here tonight. Yes, I can imagine. Lovely chatting with you too Molly. I look forward to seeing you, Arthur and the children this evening. Yes, I'll tell him. Goodbye."

Remus cleared his throat and lowered his voice. " Bill, grab Charlie, whatever gear you both need and do me a favor? Go get the twins, bring them with you. Yes, it is rather urgent. Thanks. See you all soon."

"You big fibber!" Harry said as Remus sat back on his heels, grinning up at his nephew.

"Once a marauder, always a marauder," he said calmly. "Odd and Luna Lovegood should be here in about fifteen minutes. He said they'd just finished a printing of _'The Quibbler' _and would tidy up then apparate over."

"So just the Longbottoms then?" Harry asked.

"Indeed. Can you toss in some fresh floo powder for me please?"

Harry did so, and Remus requested Longbottom Manor, before once again sticking his head into the emerald flames.

"Hello Cornflower, how are you? Is your Mistress at home? Excellent! Thank-you," he said, then fell silent for a couple of minutes. "Good afternoon Madam Longbottom," he said at last, "I'm very well, thank-you. And yourself? Excellent! That's a very fetching shade of green you're wearing. Yes, I do agree, the darker shades are much more flattering. Is your grandson home today? Wonderful. I was calling to invite you both to my and Harry's home...Oh, a small get together, for Harry actually. You could say that, Madam Longb...Augusta, certainly, I'm honored, please call me Remus. No, no, not a...ahhh..._public_ gathering. A select group. Yes, as soon as you can. Oh, and Augusta, if your brother would like to come along, he'd be most welcome. Ummm...your _other_ brother. Yes, that's right. Would you? I'd be most grateful. Yes, yes, excellent. We'll see you then. Goodbye."

Remus again sat back on his heels and groaned, rubbing his face with his hands.

"What?" Harry asked, the three Grangers unabashedly eavesdropping behind him.

"Augusta thought I meant Algernon Croaker," he said, "who is a complete lunatic. You have no idea how many times that idiot almost killed poor Neville when he was a young child, trying to make him do accidental magic! Dropping him out windows, pushing him off piers! The man's got more than a screw loose! He's a complete menace!"

"Is she bringing the right brother now?" Emma asked, sharing a glance with Dan.

"Yes, thank Merlin. She can contact Ebenezer faster as family, given that he's secreted in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries. He's also a suspicious old bastard – makes Mad-Eye Moody look positively naive and trusting. I'd doubt he'd come if I asked, but Augusta Longbottom is a force of nature. She'll get him here."

"Don't forget the Professors," Hermione said helpfully as Remus went to get up.

He groaned. "My knees are killing me. More floo powder, Harry!"

Harry complied, then went and grabbed a cushion and handed it to his uncle who tucked it under his knees without taking his head out of the fire.

"Yes Minerva, it's me. Oh, hello Filius. This is fortuitous, I wanted to speak to both of you. No, no, nothing's wrong, not exactly. Can both of you come over? There's a bit of a get together for Harry. The Headmaster? Ummm...no, not this time. You can? Excellent! Oh, and Filius, do check each other for any...ahhh..._magical_ passengers, all right? Exactly! Right, see you both shortly."

Remus once again sat back as the fire returned to normal. "Dobby," he called, and immediately, the elf popped into the room.

"How is Dobby helping Master Remus?" He squeaked, his eyes flicking from Harry to Remus and back again.

"When our guests arrive, can you check them all for tracking, spying and listening spells please Dobby?"

The little elf nodded vigorously. "Dobby can be doing that, Master Remus. You want Dobby to remove all nasty, prying magic?"

"Absolutely! Check their wands too, and everything they bring with them, luggage, books, everything."

"Dobby is being very careful and thorough. Dobby is not wanting anyone spying on Harry Potter Sir's private business."

"Excellent. Thank you."

Dobby inclined his head then popped away.

"What was that about?" Dan asked curiously.

"Remus is worried Dumbledore has magically bugged the Professors, and that Mrs. Weasley has done the same to her sons," Harry explained.

"Would she do that?" Emma asked curiously, her expression a trifle disapproving. "It's all very well wanting to know where your children are, but spying on them? If they found out, there'd be hell to pay."

"That would never occur to her," Remus said, seating himself on the couch. "As far as she's concerned, her children belong eternally to her and she has every right to supervise, control and coddle them."

"It drives Fred and George bugnuts," Harry said. "We've exchanged quite a few stories about growing up and while I do care about Mrs. Weasley, her full-on mothering would have had me climbing the walls in a week."

At that moment, the front doorbell rang, and a couple of minutes later Bill, Charlie and the twins, all looking furious, their clothes rumpled, stormed into the library.

"That...that...meddling, nosy, controlling..._AAARG_!" Bill snarled, flinging himself into a chair so violently it almost tipped over.

Charlie, his normally smiling countenance thunderous, stomped over to the fireplace and stood in front of it, glowering indiscriminately at everyone.

The twins looked ready to spit nails, their identical faces flushed, their expressions equally disgusted. "That bloody woman!" One snarled.

"She had locater and recording charms," the other added.

"On both of us," they finished in unison.

Emma nodded. "I rest my case," she said.

Harry introduced Grangers to Weasleys, and when he got to the twins, he pointed to the one on the left and said, "that's Fred, and the other one's George, inventors and pranksters extraordinare."

Fred stared at Harry. "How do you always know which one of us is which? Even the interfering old biddy gets it wrong sometimes."

Harry shrugged and smiled. "I like to know who I'm talking to, so I pay attention."

"So... what did Dobby find?" Remus asked, turning to Bill.

The tall curse-breaker shook his head, ponytail flapping. "All of us had trackers on our shoes, listening charms on our clothes and spell recorders on our wands."

"Well, she's certainly thorough," Remus murmured, garnering a range of disgusted looks.

George turned to his eldest brother. "This has got to stop, Bill. We have to talk to Dad. We're all adults, it's ridiculous! We all contact her every day, go there twice a week for dinner. Something has to be said or Fred and I might just be forced to do a modified Percy."

"A modified Percy?" Dan was clearly curious.

"Our third brother," Charlie said, his deep baritone voice echoing a trifle through the library. "He joined the Ministry of Magic and became a brown-nosing, up himself pillock. He cut all ties with the rest of us, moved out of home and is currently treating Mum and Dad like rubbish. We don't care for him much."

"I can understand why," Dan agreed.

There was silence for a moment and again the doorbell rang.

A few minutes later, Augusta Longbottom swept into the room, large red handbag in one hand, vulture-topped hat in the other. She did not look pleased.

Behind her was Neville, but not the slightly podgy, shy boy Harry and Hermione had known. No, this was the post-Department of Mysteries Neville, and he was a new, better version.

Clearly he'd been doing some heavy gardening over the last month, as his face and hands were tanned and his normally light brown hair was now blond streaked golden brown. He'd lost weight, put on a noticeable amount of muscle, as well as growing several inches taller.

But it wasn't the cosmetic changes that caught his friends' attention, it was the way he carried himself, the set of his shoulders, the directness of his gaze. This was the new Neville, and Harry, for one, was pleased to see it.

So too, it seemed, was Charlie – if the sudden straightening of his posture and long, sweeping glance up the Longbottom heir's form, from toes to tousled hair was any indication.

After several long hours of etiquette instruction from Remus, Harry knew what he was expected to do next. He walked over to the glowering dowager, clicked his heels together and bowed. "Madam Longbottom, welcome to my home, it is indeed a pleasure to have you here," he said, taking the hand she extended in his right, shaking it three times then releasing it.

He then turned to Neville and repeated the bow, "Lord-Elect Longbottom, it is a pleasure to see you again so soon. The Ancient and Noble House of Potter is indebted to the Ancient and Noble House of Longbottom for your recent aid and courageous actions. House Potter considers House Longbottom a close and valued ally and friend."

Neville's eyes widened a trifle as he returned the bow, but he didn't check with his grandmother before speaking. "It was my pleasure to aid and support you, Lord-Elect Potter. House Longbottom will always be ready to do so again if House Potter requires us."

Augusta gasped at that, as did Remus and Bill. Harry, too, was surprised and touched, as Neville had all but claimed Liege man status, aligning himself, and the not inconsiderable resources of his family, with Harry's.

"Can we please drop the formality now?" Harry asked plaintively. "It's making my head hurt."

Everyone laughed, even Augusta, who sat herself regally in a winged-back chair, settling her skirts with a practiced flick of the wrist.

"You looked rather put out when you entered, Augusta," Remus said, after introducing everyone to the formidable dame.

"I was indeed cross, Remus," she snapped. "Someone had the temerity to place several tracking and recording charms on my Grandson, but that's not the worst."

"You okay Nev?" Harry asked, Hermione moving closer, and both teens looking at their friend with concern.

"Yeah, no worries Harry. Dobby removed nearly all of them."

Harry frowned, turning to look at Augusta. "Nearly all?" He queried.

She sniffed. "Indeed, Mr. Potter. Your Elf was most efficient, but the last spell on Neville will require the services of a Healer to remove. It appears he has a block on his magic, a block that's been affecting him since he was approximately sixteen months old."

"What?" Harry's voice was the loudest, but not the only one.

Augusta sniffed again. "I daresay it was placed there just after my son and daughter-in-law were assaulted. But by whom..." she shrugged. "I hope the Healer will be able to tell us that."

Harry patted Neville on the shoulder. "If it's any consolation, I have a set of blocks on me too," he said. "I've had a Healer recommended to me that I'm planing to visit immediately after this meeting."

Augusta looked piercingly at him. "Recommended by whom, if you please?"

"My Godfather, soon to be father, Sirius Black," Harry said proudly, his eyes alight with power as if he expected her to shriek in fear or hurl abuse at Padfoot.

A thin-lipped smile flittered across her aged face. "Good. Will they see Neville?"

Harry, rather taken aback, nodded.

Augusta gave a lady-like snort. "You seem surprised, boy. Don't be. I never could abide Walburga Black – horrid, pushy woman. Orion was a spineless pudding, Regulus a sniveling little sycophant, until he grew a spine late in his life. Your Godfather was never scared of me, cheeky brat that he was," she smiled fondly in memory. "He was the most brutally honest child and young man. Couldn't bear the puffery and arrogance of the Pures, even though he was one. Hated the bigotry and the fawning over Grindelwald's memory. Never for a moment did I think he'd betray your parents. He loved both of them as his siblings and would gladly have been tortured to death if it would have kept them, and you, safe. No, I knew there had to be another explanation."

"There was," Remus said, coming up beside Harry, Luna and an older man just behind him.

"Enlighten me then," Augusta ordered, folding her hands in her lap.

Remus smiled sadly. "Glad to," he said and proceeded to do exactly that.

At the end of his explanation, Augusta looked as if she had aged two decades or more, her lined face desperately sad. "Never got to know young Pettigrew," she said, "but clearly he was unworthy of such friends as you, Sirius and the Potters." She shook her head. "They came to a supper dance at Longbottom Manor just after Lily and Alice had found out they were both expecting. Damn lovely night, they were so in love..."

Her voice faded and her eyes became suspiciously bright. Neville covered her thin age-spotted hands with one of his much larger ones, squeezing gently. She almost smiled at him, then seemed to collect herself, harrumphing and glaring at him. Neville just smiled and stepped back to politely chat with Hermione's parents.

"What of your brother?" Remus asked. "Will he be joining us?"

Augusta nodded regally. "Indeed. Ebenezer is quite curious, and he said that, on one condition, he would join us."

"Oh? And what would that be?" The werewolf asked politely.

Augusta gave him another of her vinegary smiles. "That it is Harry Potter himself who invites him."


	4. Meetings and Bondings

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry it's been a bit of a wait – my Muse blew a fuse! However, the up-side is I'm posting a chapter now and another in a couple of days' time! Thanks bunches to all of you wonderful folk who reviewed, and also a big wave to all those who favorited this fic. **PRETTY PLEASE - WITH WHIPPED CREAM, CHOPPED NUTS AND A CHERRY ON TOP - REVIEW – IT MAKES ME ALL WIBBLY AND HAPPY!**

DISCLAIMER: Ninjacrow (that's my name in English – cute huh?) does NOT own Harry Potter. J. does. If I did, things would've been a lot different!

**Chapter Four:****Meetings and Bondings.**

It was a beautiful summer's afternoon, and Hagrid was making the most of it. All the windows and doors of his house were open, all his freshly washed bedding and curtains were out airing and he had indulged in a degree of housekeeping he usually avoided.

Besides his newly sparking abode, he had the Nifflers, Bowtruckles and Plimpies all organized for the start of the new year, his garden was doing beautifully, and both the Thestral and Unicorn herds had had a dozen foals each.

Barefoot, and with his sleeves folded halfway up his brawny forearms, Hagrid sat at his table, carefully fletching a dozen new arrows for his crossbow. It was a delicate, fiddly job, but he couldn't abide the shoddy magically done arrows for sale in Diagon Alley. Sometimes, the old fashioned way, the Muggle way, was better.

He'd trimmed the goose feathers, prepared the twine and the glue, and cut the grooves in the nock-end of the ash shafts. Now all he had to do was...

Just as he slipped the first feather into place, deep shadow engulfed his hut, and something massive landed on the roof.

The entire structure groaned under the impact, dust and debris raining down from the rafters, sending all the bats, owls, crows and numerous insects roosting there into panicked flight.

The hut shuddered in protest, the large stones of the walls grinding together, the heavy wooden beams of the roof creaking in a most alarming manner, the whole thing trembling violently.

Hagrid picked himself up from the floor, wincing as numerous breakables lived up to that title all around him. With care, he navigated the twitching floor and made it to the door, tripped down the now decidedly lop-sided steps to solid ground, then spun around to finally get a look at whatever it was trying to squash his home like a bug.

There, perched as if it owned the place, was a dragon.

Twenty feet long, dark slate gray scales gleaming in the sunlight, huge acid-yellow eyes fixed on him, it was beautiful. From the barely erupted ridge of spines down its back, Hagrid could tell it was a juvenile, less than ten years old, while the pair of back-swept horns protruding from above it's eyes showed it was male.

The dragon's head, as long as Hagrid's torso, was slender and elegant, with a delicately tapered muzzle. It had a long sinuous neck, a compact, muscular body, four powerful legs, gleaming black claws as long as Hagrid's forearm, a prehensile tail that ended in a cluster of vicious bony spines, and two huge bat-like wings.

As he gaped in awe, and not a little avarice, something clicked in Hagrid's dragon-befuddled mind.

It was a young Norwegian Ridgeback.

It was a _very_ _specific _young Norwegian Ridgeback.

With a bellow of happiness, tears bursting from his eyes, Hagrid flung his arms open in welcome. "Norbert!" he caroled joyfully, "Norbert! It's me! It's Mummy!"

Norbert, for it was indeed he, trumpeted a greeting, unfurled his sail-like wings and jump/glided off the roof towards the sobbing half-giant.

Hagrid had a split second to realize he just might be in trouble...and to brace for the impact....

-]---

Harry stared at the Longbottom Matriarch, genuinely surprised. "Me? Why me?" He asked. A senior Unspeakable wanted his personal invitation to visit? He thought about this for a moment – then understanding dawned. He was being tested. Harry barely managed to suppress a snarl of frustration. Another old man pushing him! Just what he needed.

Augusta, somewhat misreading his silence as simple confusion, stared at him for several long moments before turning to Remus. "In any other I'd think it false modesty, but he truly doesn't understand his own importance, does he?" she asked.

Remus shook his head. "No, nor does he want to. He genuinely hates the attention, he gets embarrassed by it. He never notices the girls flirting with him or the women trying to attract him, and he's blind to the men trying to use him to make themselves look better either socially or politically."

"That naivety will get him killed," the grand dame said bluntly, her gaze once more on Harry's face.

"He's far from naive, Madam Longbottom," Emma said firmly, "as you will shortly see. Harry has few illusions about the magical world he lives in, but he sorely lacks a guide and teacher in those social and political circles he is soon to have to enter."

Augusta raised an eyebrow and studied the other woman for some time. Emma neither dropped her eyes nor fidgeted. She simply kept her gaze as steady as Augusta's own. "You suggesting I teach him?" The elderly woman snapped, and Emma gestured towards Neville, who was holding court with the Weasleys, Hermione, Luna and her father.

"You seem to have a talent for it," she said dryly, surprising a snort of laughter out of the formidable old woman.

"Not backward in coming forward, are you? I like that, Mrs. Granger!"

"Emma," Emma said, "and I want the best teachers in their respective fields, so Harry can learn all he needs to as quickly as possible."

Augusta nodded and whipped her head around to pin Harry with a piercing glare. "And you, boy. What do you think?" She barked.

Harry didn't flinch. After all, he'd had more than a decade of Vernon, Petunia and Marge Dursley to toughen him up. "I think you should know, Madam, that I am not a boy," he stated calmly, surprising her. "I also think if I do accept you as a teacher that you, Remus and my other Liegemen will need to have a long talk about exactly how such an arrangement would work."

Augusta's eyebrows threatened to retreat up into her hair. "Liegemen?" She queried sharply. "No one has declared liege status for centuries!"

"Well, we have now, Augusta," Remus said, smiling proudly at his nephew.

"And it's so easy to do," a soft voice added from behind Harry, who whirled around to find himself literally nose to nose with Luna, her father standing directly behind her.

Remus placed a hand on Mr. Lovegood's shoulder. "Harry, this is Oddment Lovegood," the werewolf said, and Harry politely grasped the hand the man extended and shook it.

"Call me Odd," Mr Lovegood said while the teen studied him. He was short, even compared to Harry, with a huge explosion of soft, butter-colored hair as fine as thistledown, bright blue eyes and a guileless expression.

When Harry tried to end the handshake, Odd held on and tilted his head in a remarkably avian manner, his gaze fixed on Harry's face. He then gave a birdlike trill and smiled at his daughter. "I see what you mean sweetie," he said, bobbing his head. "It is indeed as clear as the horn on a Snorkack."

His head swiveled back to face Harry in a move the teen found eerily reminiscent of Hedwig, and once again they locked eyes. "Such bonds are clearly necessary in these unusual and trying times," the strange little man murmured.

He reached out and laid his other long-fingered hand on Harry's chest, echoing a long ago touch by Sirius, the memory bringing tears to Harry's eyes. "We have only just met, but I have taken your measure, Harry Potter," Odd said, "and I too willingly choose to follow and aid you as the Chosen One. Whatever I, and '_The Quibbler_', can do to help you succeed, consider them done." The familiar golden spark leaped from the older man to the younger, making both of them jump a little.

"Well!" Odd said, grinning and practically bouncing up and down with exuberance, "that was exciting! I've never sworn allegiance to a lord before! A most singular experience, young Harry. Thank you!" Harry couldn't help smiling, there was just something about Odd that touched his heart. No wonder he had felt such a bond with Luna – she was clearly her father's daughter.

Suddenly, Odd's smile vanished and frowning fiercely, he released Harry's hand and reached up to press the tips of his fingers to both sides of Harry's head, just above his ears.

Harry felt a brush of awareness touch the outer edge of his mind, a gentle caress completely different to the appalling brutality of the repeated invasions he'd experienced with Snape during his Occlumency lessons.

^_Oh, my dear lad_,^ a 'voice' murmured inside his head. ^_What has been done to you? Your_ _mind is all torn and bleeding. Will you show me what happened_?^

Harry, strangely enough, was not frightened by the touch of Odd's thoughts. He could feel the man's compassion and absolute horror at what Snape had done to him. Clumsily, he tried to share his memories, but achieved little until the 'voice' spoke again.

^_You have clearly been mistreated, young Harry, and are woefully untrained in the mind arts. Will you allow me to enter your mind more completely and see what occurred for myself? I swear I will neither hurt nor betray you if you do._^

^_Go ahead,_^ Harry thought, a trifle warily, but then felt Luna grasp his right hand in her two smaller ones, squeezing it gently in reassurance, even as her father's mind mingled with his.

There was no pain, no embarrassment, only flashes of light and color as Odd sifted through all the levels of Harry's mind, faster than he thought was possible. Behind him, Odd left a gentle balm of healing, easing away a level of pain Harry had become inured to and hadn't realized how bad it was until it started to abate.

^_There,_^ Odd said at last. ^_I have seen all I need to and have begun healing what I can. We will need to do this several times, especially after those blocks I can see around your magical core are removed, a task for one more experienced in such things than I. Once your magic is freed and we have worked together to heal your mind, I shall teach you how to defend yourself – if you wish?_^

^_Oh yes please!_^ Harry thought eagerly. ^_Nothing you did hurt!_^

^_That might not always be the case,_^ Odd's 'voice' was a touch sad. ^_There are… things… in here that do not belong in anyone's mind. I will need to do some research then meet with you and your loved ones to discuss a suitable treatment program. But do not fear young Harry, there is much I can do to help you.^_

^_I don't mean to be rude sir, but… what are you?_^ Harry 'asked'.

A mental laugh shivered through his mind. ^_I was a mind healer at St. Mungo's… until my wife died. Luna was seven when Stella, who was a gifted spell researcher, died in a magical accident in front of her. For many years, Luna believed it was her fault, and it required all of my time and skills to help her heal from what she saw._^

^_Merlin! I'm so sorry!_^ Harry said, gently squeezing Luna's hands in his. ^_I didn't know the details, only that Luna misses her very much._^

^_No matter lad, your friendship and easy acceptance of my very special child has already helped her more than I can say._^

^_Very special…?_^

^_Luna is a true Seer, Harry, and she has told me she is to be with you, to help you. Now having seen who you are, I totally agree and support her._^

Harry didn't know what to say to that; he hadn't been able to stop thinking about the discussion he and Luna had had about the Veil voices. In fact, if he was truly honest with himself, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about Luna.

^_Has she made any prophecies yet sir?_^ he asked cautiously.

^_Not as such,_^ Odd replied. ^_I saw you have a somewhat jaundiced view of prophecy and I don't blame you, given what your experiences with it have been to date. However, Luna has said her gift is specifically present to aid you and will manifest when it is needed. I have no doubt she will let us know when that is. Now, let us separate, young Harry, and continue this at a later time._^

With that, Harry felt Odd's presence leave his awareness and the library swam into focus around him. Once again, he had no idea what to say, a state that appeared to be all too common around Odd, who nodded and walked away, his place taken by the grinning Weasley twins and a certain blonde Ravenclaw.

"Ladies first!" George said gallantly, with a florid bow to Luna who, with an impish smile, curtsied back. She raised her brilliant blue eyes to Harry's face and the breath caught in his throat at the sheer depth of emotion he saw there.

"You are very special," she said softly, laying one of her small, warm hands on his chest, over his heart, just where her father's hand had been. "I am drawn to you like a nargle to mistletoe. I was honored to fight beside you in the Department of Mysteries and I will remain by your side… for as long as you want me."

Harry went to speak but she raised her other hand and pressed fingers against his lips, making them tingle. "Don't interrupt," she scolded, the smile on her face and look in her eyes setting his pulse racing. He nodded and her smile widened.

"I willingly link my life and my fate to yours, Harry James Potter," she continued, "and I will do any and everything I can to ensure your defeat of Voldemort."

Compelled by some force he couldn't quite explain to himself, Harry cupped her face in his hands and spoke "And I willingly link my life and my fate to yours, Luna...?" His voice trailed off on an interrogatory note and he quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Celeste."

He smiled. "Luna Celeste Lovegood, for as long as you want me."

Expecting the usual golden spark, Harry braced for it. But instead, a soft rosy-gold nimbus of light spread out from his hands touching her face and her fingers against his lips, to encompass them both in a tingling cocoon of magic.

The exclamations, 'oohs' and 'aahs' that erupted drew the two teens' attention back to their audience – all of whom had gathered around, watching the events unfold. Harry, slightly dazed from the slowly fading magic saw Remus beaming at him, Neville and Hermione both looking rather startled, Odd, who was positively smug, Bill and Charlie giving him the thumbs' up, while Dan and Emma simply looked confused. Augusta, a hand pressed to her chest, looked utterly gobsmacked.

However, before anyone could say anything, the twins each grabbed one of Harry's hands.

"Our beloved investor," Fred began.

"Please take note of the 'beloved'," George added, getting an elbow in the ribs from his brother.

"Our hero and champion," Fred continued, but then, abruptly, both of them sobered and in perfect unison said, "We, Fredrick Gideon and George Fabian Weasley, also pledge ourselves to you Harry James Potter, and our every resource, our every invention, from this moment on, will be made to aid you until such time as the Dark Wanker Voldemort is destroyed."

They paused for a moment, exchanged a glance, then Fred continued, a faint blush in his cheeks, his voice oddly uncertain. "We… um… we also willingly link our lives and our fates to yours for as long as you want us in your life."

George, the tips of his ears an almost glowing magenta, added, "if _you_ want _us, _that is." His tone was as unsure as his twin's, as if they expected Harry to reject them outright.

For a moment, he simply stared at them, then with all the strength in his slender body, he pulled them to him, repeating the words back to them, and the three embraced, the same rosy-gold light enveloping them. George immediately shot out one long arm and pulled a beaming Luna into the hug.

"I don't know what this means for the four of us," Harry whispered, "but I look forward to finding out!"

"I think group sex is a given at some point," Luna commented, sending her three companions into coughing fits.

"EXCELLENT!" The twins finally managed while Harry was certain his cheeks were going to explode, he was blushing so much.

"We are not complete yet," Luna added, her gaze suddenly unfocused. "One more is to join us."

Harry did a most accurate impression of a fish out of water, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly.

"Bwah?" he finally muttered intelligently, making the twins snigger.

Luna nodded. "Another girl, as you need two wives, one for the Black line and one for the Potter. The two husbands also. It is all a matter of balance. You like both men and women, so do we. Together, the five of us will be the core of two new magical dynasties." Her gaze snapped back into focus and she smiled. "We all love you, Harry, and between us, we will make you happy, something you richly deserve."

"Just not _right _now," George added.

"It would probably be best if we let the parents know first," Fred said, "and then of course Gred and I have to argue over which one of us gets to be Mrs. Weasley-Potter and which one Mrs. Weasley-Black."

"Oh God!" Harry muttered, "Arthur! And…_MOLLY!_ Merlin! How am I supposed to tell them I've proposed – kind of – to their twin sons, not their daughter? The daughter who's been pining for me for years? The daughter Molly is convinced I'm going to marry immediately out of school?"

"Well, ickle Gin-Gin can just keep her hands to herself," George said firmly. "You're ours sunshine, and that's that."

Fred laughed. "Yeah, she can just piss off!" His grin became slightly malicious. "Can we now all imagine how big a fit Ron is going to have over this?"

Harry groaned and covered his face with his hands, while Luna laughed until she had to wipe away tears.

"Actually Harry," Hermione said from right behind him, "I think it will be _absolutely fascinating_ when Ron finds out!"

"Not to mention Malfoy," Neville added helpfully. "Oh… and Snape."

Harry started banging his head on the nearby wall, much to everyone's amusement as all the adults crowded around, offering their congratulations and well wishes to the newly bonded foursome.

Dan and Emma pulled Remus aside while Odd and Neville were busy hugging Harry and the others. "Is this… um… normal?" Dan asked quietly. "The group marriage thing… not that Harry has feelings for both boys and girls," he added in clarification.

Remus nodded in understanding. "It's rare, but not unknown." He said, "It's been documented several times, mostly among the strongest wizards and witches. Merlin supposedly had three wives, while the four founders of Hogwarts lived together as a group, until Slytherin's issues with Muggleborns broke them apart."

"So Harry is… what? As powerful as them?" Emma asked, rather shocked.

Remus frowned thoughtfully. "Possibly. He would have needed two wives anyway, to provide heirs for the Potter and Black lines. The addition of the twins is, I believe, purely for love. Since this is clearly a magical union, there will have to be one more girl yet to join them. I wonder who it will be?"

"Isn't there a Weasley girl?" Dan asked.

"Eww! That could get nasty!" Emma commented with a wince, and the two men winced with her.

"Ginevra, yes," the werewolf said, "but I don't think Harry has any… ah… _romantic_ feelings for her. He's had a thing for Luna for several months now, especially this last month or so, and for the twins… oh, I'd say for about a year at least."

"Well, good luck to them," Emma stated, taking her husband's hand. "Harry deserves every happiness."

"Absolutely!" Dan agreed. "Sweetie, I think Neville's Gran might appreciate some company."

With that, they nodded politely to Remus and headed over to Augusta, who was looking rather pensive and oddly sad, Neville now by her side.

-]---

Albus Dumbledore looked down at the liquefied remains of his precious soul scanner and sighed. It had been a particularly rare artifact, made and used by Tibetan Lamas, to find their leaders when they reincarnated.

He'd modified this particular one to tell him if Harry remained in the Light or if, like Tom, he ever chose to walk the Dark path. Now, sadly, it was gone, and he had only ever been able to get the one, in spite of a half-century of searching.

With a wave of his wand, he vanished the mess, then walked up the stairs to the area above his main office, and into his private quarters.

With several complex spells, he opened a secret compartment set into the elaborately carved head of his bed, and took out a small iron chest. This he opened with a few drops of his own blood, the tiny cut he made on his finger healing much more slowly than he liked to see.

Inside the chest were numerous tiny crystal vials – some containing blood, some hair, some other bodily fluids – all clearly labeled with names. He searched through them until he found the one he was looking for… but was irked to find it was the last from that unwitting donor.

Carefully he returned the chest to its hiding place and went back down stairs, past Fawkes' unoccupied perch and over to a small table below the window, on which sat another silent silver device.

This he moved to his desk, before opening the vial to pour the seven precious drops of blood it contained into an opening on the top of the device. He then tapped it with his wand, murmuring under his breath.

The little silver machine began to shake, then chime, tiny puffs of white smoke exiting via a funnel on its side. The smoke slowly darkened until it was a deep charcoal gray, each puff now forming a ring which linked up into a chain.

Albus sighed with relief. That unexpected soul surge must simply have been Potter finally accepting his destiny, accepting the need for his ultimate sacrifice - to save the wizarding world. The linked chain showed all the blocks on the boy's magical core were still in place, so he remained Albus' to control, to wield as he saw fit, for the Greater Good.

Dumbledore tapped the device again and it fell silent, then he vanished the empty vial. He'd need to have Poppy collect more blood from the boy as soon as possible, probably at the next of his frequent visits to the hospital wing...or perhaps he'd simply get Severus to stun him and do the collecting, at the first of the "Occlumency lessons" he'd insist were to continue.

Satisfied, Albus put the device aside, and returned to the never-ending piles of paperwork.

-]---

Just as Harry was about to also return to Augusta, to discover how to contact her brother, the front doorbell rang again.

Several minutes later, Kingsley opened the library door and ushered in a diverse group – Amelia Bones, monocle glinting, strode in with a ferocious scowl, followed by a thin-lipped Minerva McGonagall and an uncharacteristically somber Filius Flitwick. Close on the diminutive Professor's heels was a tall, elegant woman with long lustrous chestnut hair done up in a French braid, and as she bore a striking resemblance to Narcissa Malfoy, Harry surmised she was Andromeda Tonks.

Behind her was a well-built, handsome blond man with bright blue eyes and an easy smile, who stumbled as he came through the door, his toe catching on the end of the rug.

"Careful Dad!" A familiar voice said, as Tonks, still in her dark red Auror robes, grabbed her father's elbow to steady him – only to almost fall flat on _her _face as _her_ toe caught in the exact same spot.

Harry snorted with amusement as the lithe bubblegum pink-haired Auror and her smiling parents all staggered into the room.

She looked good, Harry thought, watching them all but mostly Tonks, admiring her heart-shaped face, golden eyes and very nice curves, displayed by the well cut, form-fitting Auror uniform.

"See something you like?" A soft whisper from beside him drew Harry's attention from the laughing Tonks family back to Luna and the twins.

"We certainly do," George added helpfully.

Harry grinned at them. "Other than your sexy selves? Just one other," he whispered back, inordinately pleased by the faint blushes that swept up into their cheeks at his comment.

"Is that flirting?" Luna asked, "because if it is, I like it." She went up on tippy toe and kissed Harry on the cheek, making him blush, which of course made the twins laugh. That would not do, Harry thought, so he cheekily kissed Fred on the cheek who proceeded to kiss George, who kissed Luna, who kissed Harry.

Before things could get totally out of control, Harry gently moved Luna into the twins' arms and muttered, "Just kiss among yourselves for a while, I need to find out what's going on."

The other three all looked at each other then turned back to Harry and chorused "Thank you, Harry!" Then they all grabbed him and kissed him thoroughly, before shoving him, not entirely gently, towards the adults who had gathered around a clearly irate Director of Magical Law Enforcement.

"…never heard of such a thing!" Amelia Bones was saying, clearly angry and upset. "I swear Remus, heads are going to roll! I thought this visit would be a total waste of my time, but even if nothing else of note occurs, you've done me and the D.M.L.E. a huge service, just by uncovering those tracking and recording charms! How I or my staff missed them I might not know now – but I will!" she finished savagely.

"How do you think I feel?" Flitwick piped up, "I'm a Charms Master for Merlin's sake, and I still missed those tracking and locating charms on Min and myself!"

"Try not too feel too bad, Boss," Shack rumbled. "Dobby is an excellent elf. If anyone was going to find those things on all of you, it would have been him or Winky. At least you all know now someone, or more than one, is trying to keep tabs on all of you."

Bones fixed him with a gimlet eye. "That fails to comfort me, Senior Auror!" She snapped, her hands clenched into fists. "Fudge has consistently refused any budget increases I've requested. How in Circe's name am I supposed to find the resources necessary to check all my staff – field and clerical – for bloody tracking charms?"

It wasn't unknown for Harry, in moments of crisis, to have a sudden burst of insight – and something in the fuming Director's comments triggered one now. Without saying anything to his bondmates, he called for Dobby and Winky and the three of them went into a huddle.

They talked in whispers for a couple of minutes before he gestured for Luna and the twins and as many of his Liegemen as he could catch their eyes to come join him.

The new arrivals watched, confused, as the group kneeling on the floor whispered and gesticulated at each other for several more minutes, before all the humans stood and the elves disappeared with a pop.

Harry approached the formidable Madam Bones, his Professors and the Tonks, all his loved ones grouped behind him. "Madam Director, welcome to my home," he said politely and offered his hand which she shook with a knuckle-cracking grip.

"Well, yes… I apol…," Amelia began, but Harry waved away her apology, which give him the chance to also shake some feeling back into his fingers.

"No Ma'am, you have every reason to be furious – but I and my Liegemen may have an answer to your problem – one that won't cost you a knut."

Amelia studied the young man standing before her, gears clearly shifting in her head. "That has certainly caught my attention Mr. Potter," she said slowly. "And how do you propose to accomplish that?"

His answering lop-sided smile, accompanied by a level emerald gaze, sent a thrill up her spine, shocking her. No wonder her niece, Susan, raved about this lad! He was going to be a heart-breaker for certain, in only another year or two. Those eyes! It was like he could look into your heart and soul!

Giving herself a mental shake, Amelia concentrated on his face, his posture, and realized there was something… odd… about the three youngsters standing directly behind him. The twins were clearly Aurthur Weasley's, while the lass was Odd Lovegood's daughter… but there was something else….

"I'll have an answer for you as soon as my elves return," Harry said, jolting her back into the moment. "And if my idea works, it will help more than just you and your Department."

Amelia nodded, then her brain clicked in on something he'd said. "Liegemen?" She queried, a look of intense interest on her tough, square-jawed face.

"Allow me to fill you in, Director," Kingsley said smoothly, giving Harry a wink as he stepped forward. With a polite gesture, he guided his boss to one side, speaking rapidly to her in a low voice.

Harry's eyes tracked her for a moment, his expression thoughtful, then he turned back to face Minerva and Filius, who both looked pensive and upset. "I'm so glad you both came," he said, surprising them considerably as he hugged each in turn.

This had the effect of making the tiny Charms professor snort with amusement as his prim colleague got rather flustered.

"Mr. Potter!" She exclaimed, nervously patting her dark hair, which, as always, was always up in a tight bun. With great amusement, Harry realized she was behaving rather like a cat with its fur brushed up the wrong way.

He grinned unrepentantly, and said with complete insincerity "I'm sorry Professor… it just slipped out!"

Minerva huffed at him, a surprising hint of moisture in her eyes, but before she could get more uncomfortable or say anything, Hermione was at her elbow, inviting her to come over to the chairs where she and her parents would fill her in on all that had been happening. Luna followed suit, shepherding her Head of House away, the tiny man grinning at Harry over his shoulder.

Now Harry was face to face with the sister of the bitch who had killed Sirius – and he had absolutely no idea what to say to her.

Tonks, her hair cycling through several shades of pink, red and purple, stood beside her mother, her expression tense and unhappy, trying not to wring her hands.

There was no denying Andromeda Tonks, nee Black, was a beautiful woman. Tall, regal, blessed with perfect skin, thick lustrous hair and a wonderful figure, she was, even in middle-age, a head-turner…

But her face was so like Bellatrix's, it made Harry's gut clench and cold sweat pop out on his brow… until he looked into her eyes.

They were gray, soft as the breast of a dove, slightly tilted at the outer corners, like Sirius'.

Exactly like Sirius'.

Harry couldn't control the sob that filled his chest… but before he could do anything, Andromeda stepped forward and gently embraced him, tears running down her perfect cheeks. "I am so, so sorry for your loss," she murmured against his hair, and they stood together, sharing their grief.

Harry wasn't aware of anything else at first, until Ted Tonks came up behind his weeping wife, his arms slipping around her slim waist, his sombre face and sad eyes looking at Harry over her shoulder.

It was then Harry realized another body was pressed in a similar fashion to his back, a pair of strong, slim arms wrapped around his chest. As Andromeda accepted a hankie from her husband with a watery thanks, Harry turned his head to find himself nose to nose with Tonks, her face also wet with tears.

Gently, he disentangled himself from her mother, leaving her to the tender embrace of Ted, who nodded to him. He faced Tonks properly, brushing the pads of his thumbs over her cheeks, wiping away the tears and looking into her lovely dark gray eyes.

Abruptly, Harry realized she was exactly his height, and he carefully ran his fingers up into her soft auburn hair, somehow knowing it was her natural color, as was the heart shape of her face, the delicate bone structure, the expressive eyes…

"I hear you're collecting Liegemen and spouses…" Tonks said, her gaze flicking briefly to Remus who was talking to her parents and back, her voice so soft Harry had to move closer to hear her properly.

"Ye… yeah," he stuttered slightly, smiling at his own incredible suaveness, his self-depreciating grin matched by hers.

"Um… Don't suppose you've got room for one more?" She asked, a faint blush rising in her cheeks.

"Have you got a resume?"

She rolled her eyes and smacked him on the chest. "Prat!" She said, fondly, and any awkwardness between them dissolved.

Harry waggled his eyebrows in a lascivious manner at her. "So… what 'position' are you applying for?" He asked. "Liegeman or spouse?"

Tonks looked straight into his eyes, her own gaze oddly vulnerable. "Actually," she said softly, "both."

Harry was rather startled and at first thought she was taking the mickey out of him as she always had in the past. However she was clearly serious, her gaze unwavering. "I… I don't know what to say," he admitted at last, and immediately regretted it as her face fell.

She tried to move away, but found her progress blocked by the Weasley twins, who'd come up silently behind her.

"Just as well we came over," Fred commented.

"Since it's clear Mr. Suave and Romantic here has managed to stick his foot in it," George added.

"Just so long as its only his foot he's sticking in just now," Luna said, peering around from behind Harry.

Tonks looked cock-eyed at the blonde then erupted into giggles, Harry's spectacular blush only making her laugh harder.

"As it happens, Miss. Tonks," Fred said, "You're in luck."

George nodded, "We are, in fact, on the lookout for a suitable future Lady Black."

"And you'd fit the bill very nicely," his twin added, with a lecherous wiggle of his eyebrows that put Harry's previous attempt to shame.

"Must be the uniform," George exclaimed, rolling his eyes. "Makes my brother all giddy." He glanced at Harry. "Him, it makes inarticulate," he added, with a lopsided grin for his bonded, who glared at him half-heartedly.

Tonks stopped giggling and stared at them all – Luna, a dreamy expression on her face, was humming what sounded like the Auror anthem, while the twins grinned at her like a pair of Cheshire cats and Harry…

"Why would a beautiful, successful, older woman like you want to be with a screwed up kid like me?" He asked her abruptly.

She didn't answer immediately, her eyes wandering over him, from the wild black hair, to 'The Scar', the slightly haunted, incredibly vulnerable eyes, his narrow bony face that already hinted at the very handsome man he would one day be, his beautiful mouth and stubborn chin, the slim, almost too slender body….

She raised her eyes back to his face before she spoke. "Harry, we've known each other, what? Off and on for a year or so, yeah?"

He nodded slowly, his emerald gaze never leaving her gray one.

"I know how much my cousin loved you, he told me all about you." She paused, swallowed, her expression a blend of sorrow and fierceness. "Sirius left me gob-smacked, telling me all you've had to deal with, and there is no way I can think of you as a child, or even a teen. You are as much an adult as I am, and I can't begin to tell you how much I respect you for how you've handled everything that's been thrown at you."

She looked down for a moment then reached out with both hands, to interlink her fingers with Harry's. "He told me there were things you'd need to choose to share with me, if I decided to approach you… a… about… maybe…" Her voice trailed off uncertainly.

Harry gently squeezed her hands. "Maybe bonding with me?" He asked, and she nodded.

"Yeah! Yeah, you see Harry? Sirius knew you'd need two wives," and here, she grinned at Luna, who smiled serenely back. "Although he never mentioned extra husbands," and the twins sniggered. "But he knew I liked you, that I thought you were the kind of guy who would treat me like a person you know? Not like a sex toy, 'cause of my morphing."

A horrible series of thoughts popped into Harry's head and he let go one of Tonks' hands to gently stroke her hair. "Guys have treated you like shit, haven't they?" He said softly, and winced as a pair of single tears slid from her eyes.

"Fucking morons!" George muttered, Fred nodding in agreement.

"What he said," Luna added. "Clearly, they all have Dargleworms in their brains," she added.

Tonks studied her for a moment. "Dargleworms?"

Luna nodded. "They infest the brains of immature males and make them think with their penises, which are just never up to the job," she explained. "Dargleworms do seem to be in epidemic numbers," she added thoughtfully, before looking straight at Tonks, "but you don't need to worry about these three though, they're clearly immune."

"That's good to know," the young Auror said in a strangled voice.

"It is, isn't it?" Luna agreed brightly. "Otherwise we would have had to waste several months retraining them, which is a huge amount of effort." She gave Tonks a surprisingly lucid look. "It's fortuitous we all like both men and women, and we all are really good at sharing… and if we need it, I'm sure Hermione would be happy to draw us up one of her excellent schedules, so you joining us will be no problem." She stopped, looked at Harry. "Assuming, of course, that Harry agrees."

Tonks stared at him. "Does Harry agree?" She asked, her heart in her eyes.

"Why would someone as special as you want someone like me?" he muttered. "But then, these three idiots wanted me too."

"Lovely!"

"Idiots are we?"

"Perhaps I should have brought Dargleworms spray after all!"

Harry and Tonks both grinned at each other.

"What's your middle name?" he asked.

"Cassiopeia. Why?"

Harry shook his head. "I, Harry James Potter, willingly tie my life and my fate to yours, Nymphadora Cassiopeia Tonks, for as long as you want me in your life."

She stared at him for a split second, her mouth open, then grasped both his hands in hers. "And I, Nymphadora Cassiopeia Tonks, willingly and joyfully bind my life and fate to yours, Harry James Potter. And I also swear I shall aid you to the very best of my ability, in your mission to destroy V-Vo-Voldemort, so that one day soon you will be free to live the life you deserve."

With that, Tonks impulsively leaned forward and kissed Harry on the mouth, meaning it to just be a seal to her promises. However, as the same rosy-gold light flared up around them, the kiss took on a life of its own and they embraced, breath mingling, lips and tongues touching, tasting – then Luna, Fred and George joined them all in their embrace, no one knowing, or caring, who they were kissing from one moment to the next, only knowing it was right and perfect and utterly, utterly magical…

The light around them grew, intensified, deepened...then exploded outwards in a sweet-scented, tingling wave of power, that literally swept their entire audience off its collective feet.

--]---

Draco Malfoy admired himself in the full-length mirror, turning this way and that to get the full effect of his appearance. He was clad in a black acromantula silk shirt, tailored black trousers and and black dragon-hide boots. Behind him, on his bed, lay black robes, unadorned and of simple cut, identical to the ones his mother was wearing.

Narcissa Malfoy stood behind her son, a thin smile touching her lips, her husband's snake-headed pimp cane in one hand, a white skull-like mask in the other. "Well Draco, are you ready?" She asked, her smooth, cultured voice echoing slightly in the large room.

Draco turned to face her, a matching smile on his face. "Beyond ready, Mother!" He said eagerly, and Narcissa nodded.

"Tonight, you become a man, my son, and enter into our Lord's service," she said. "Remember, you are a Malfoy – the best of the best – and show no fear, no pain, when our Lord tests you. Do not flinch or hesitate, for that would shame me and your Father, and we will not tolerate that, as you know."

Draco straightened up and looked his mother in the eyes. "I will make you proud, Mother, I swear!" He promised fervently, and Narcissa nodded, well pleased.

"There are a few tokens from your Father and I on the bed, to celebrate this auspicious day. Wear them well, Draco."

The boy nodded, strode to the bed, and gasped, before snatching up a heavy platinum ring, set with a dark cabochon emerald – the Malfoy Heir Primus signet. He slid it onto the fourth finger of his right hand, spots of color in his pale cheeks. "Mother! I...I am honored to wear this. I..._thank you!_"

Narcissa nodded regally. "You have turned sixteen, it is yours by right. Lucius acknowledges you as his heir, Draco, by blood, law and magic. I expect you will have the Black ring to wear beside it in a couple of days' time."

"That will cause that filthy half-blood, Potter, so much pain!" Draco chortled maliciously, and Narcissa smiled.

"Indeed! And the Black fortune will fund our Lord's return to power. My dead dog of a cousin's Will is to be read on the 2nd of August. He has no heirs, so all shall come to you, my son...as is fitting."

Mother and son laughed together for a moment.

"Now," Narcissa said, picking up the robes from the bed, "take your other gifts and I will help you with these."

Draco looked down and saw two wand holsters, one containing a wand. He picked it up. "A second wand Mother?"

"Yes, Draco, made at the same time as your current wand, with ebony from the same tree and a second heartstring from the same dragon. Put the second holster around your thigh or ankle, it's charmed to be undetectable. The other holster is, of course, for your first wand."

Draco quickly did as his mother advised, switching his wand to the new holster and putting both on. Narcissa then helped him don the robes, smoothing them over his shoulders and chest. As she finished, a bell rang in the hall outside Draco's quarters.

"Ah, Severus is here to escort us," she said, picking up her mask again. "Let us go, Draco, the Revel awaits!"


	5. A Crowded Trip Down Memory Lane

**Author's Note: Sorry this took a while – my compy had the wimblies. This chapter is dedicated to the-dreamer4, who caught the spelling mistake in the title, and to kittydemon18 and celticbraids who reviewed chapters 1-4 in one go.**

Thanks bunches to all who reviewed and fav'ed – it's a real ego boost.

There are slash and multi relationships mentioned – RL/KS, SB/RL, HP/GrW/FW/LL/NT, CW/NL – but nothing too graphic, as I want to keep the "T" rating.

All HP stuff is owned by JKR, I am only playing with her creations.

**Chapter Five – A Crowded Trip Down Memory Lane.**

Remus Lupin propped himself up on one elbow and looked around the library. People were scattered all over the floor like ninepins, the only ones still standing, Harry and his four bonded.

"You know Harry," the werewolf said conversationally, "I'm going to put permanent cushioning charms on every horizontal surface, as you seem to have developed a tendency to knock everyone around you off their feet. It's not a particularly sociable habit, mind you."

Harry lent his forehead against George's chest and groaned before looking up and watching as all of his loved ones and friends staggered back to their feet. "I am so, so sorry," he started, but then noticed that Dan and Emma were clinging to each other giggling, Remus was clearly biting his lip to stop himself laughing, Shack, Charlie and Neville were making odd choking noises while Amelia Bones and Augusta Longbottom were helping each other up whilst clearly trying not to laugh.

Harry put his hands on his hips and glared at everyone impartially. "Ha, ha, very funny, this is bloody embarrassing. I have no idea about this bonding stuff and none of you are helping."

Hermione propped herself on her elbows and grinned at him. "But it's so much fun to watch you floundering around," she said kindly. Harry glared daggers at her, even as she dissolved into a fit of giggles, but he couldn't maintain his expression as Luna and Tonks came up and cuddled him from each side and the twins front and back.

"We are so going to have to have a talk," Harry said to them sternly, which had little impression as they all laughed at him.

Tonks smirked at him. "Is that before, or after, you speak to my parents and Molly?"

"Merlin, don't remind me," Harry sighed, "but all of that will just have to wait, because I need to get Ebenezer Croaker here."

With quick kisses all round, he headed for Augusta who had just settled herself back into the winged chair. "I'm so sorry about that, Madam Longbottom," he began, but she waved away his apology.

"Never mind young man, it's been many decades since I last witnessed a bonding, you make me feel young again. Let us instead focus on my brother." She gestured towards the fireplace, and Harry was quick to grab some floo powder as he knelt down in front of it.

"Throw in the powder, Mr. Potter, and say '_Superkalafragalisticexpialidocious'_," Augusta directed, glancing around as Hermione, the Grangers, the Tonks' and, oddly enough, Luna, all laughed. "What is so amusing?" the old Dame demanded, frowning fiercely at them.

"That's a made up word from a muggle movie, a type of entertainment," Dan explained, chuckling.

"A movie about a nanny with magical powers, fantasy as far as non-magical folk are concerned," Ted added, the two men exchanging grins.

Augusta raised an eyebrow, somewhat mollified. "Ah, I see. Yes, that would be something Ebenezer would choose. Too clever for his own good, that man!"

Harry, smiling broadly, knelt down in front of the fire, his uncle passed him a cushion for his knees. "_Superkalafragalisticexpialidocious_!" He declared firmly, trying not to laugh, then stuck his head into the now emerald green flames.

It was the weirdest feeling. His body remained still, but his head seemed to be tumbling through the floo network, twisting and turning, myriad fireplaces flashing by. He had forgotten how much more nauseating and unpleasant this was than simply stepping bodily into the floo. It also brought back horrible memories of doing this very thing in Umbitch's office, of Kreacher's betrayal, of Sirius....

With a jerk, abrupt enough to actually hurt, his head stopped spinning and Harry found himself looking up into a shadowed room, his perspective oddly stretched from his position near the floor.

It was clearly an office, as a large desk sat directly opposite the fireplace, some distance away. Harry had a blurred impression of many bookshelves covered in knicknacks, scrolls of parchment and heavy tomes stretching away to either side of him, but the edges of the fireplace blocked much of his peripheral vision.

Directly ahead, between the fire and the desk, sitting in a pair of armchairs, were two elderly men – one a stranger, one not. "Hello Mad-Eye," Harry said, having long got over the habit of referring to the grizzled ex-Auror as 'Professor' during the time Moody had spent at Grimmauld Place, redecorating to house the Grangers.

"Tell me what happened while I was renovating the bathroom," Moody barked, his electric blue magical eye and his normal eye both fixed on Harry's face.

"You broke down a wall and found a skeleton," Harry answered promptly, "of some poor sod the Blacks had entombed at some point," he added calmly, having expected something of the sort to test his bona fides.

"Humph," Moody grunted. "It's him, Eb."

Harry turned his attention to the other man and studied him carefully. He was not overly tall, cadaverously thin, yet with a small rounded belly. White hair curled thickly on the back and sides of his large head, leaving the top and front bare. He had the same beaky nose as Augusta but the rest of his face was wider and seemed less bony. His eyes were brown, small and very, very cold, totally without expression, even as his pale, thin-lipped mouth smiled. Harry noted all this, plus his heavy knuckled hands, plain but expensive robes, and the tips of a well-worn pair of black dragonhide boots peeping out from beneath the hem.

"Mr. Croaker," he said politely.

The Unspeakable studied him for a long moment, his thin smile never changing, the cold gaze unwavering. "Mr. Potter," he said at last, his deep base voice completely at odds with his appearance.

"Madam Longbottom said that you wanted me to personally invite you to join us today, Mr. Croaker, and I am happy to do so," Harry said politely, then gave Moody a half smile. "You too, Mad-Eye."

Croaker's expression didn't change. "Good to see Dumbledore's got you well trained, boy," he said, no inflection in his voice. "It will make my taking over your training that much easier."

At this, Harry felt his blood pressure spike up, and the only thing that kept him from saying something extremely unfortunate was the sudden tightening of Moody's mouth in an expression Harry knew was one of disapproval. It suddenly occurred to him that Moody did not agree with his companion's tone. Harry's gaze flicked back to the Unspeakable.

"I am Lord-Elect Potter, the last of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter, I am not 'boy' and whether you become one of my teachers or not is far more my decision than yours. As it stands, my Godfather was the one who thought you would be an invaluable resource and a suitable teacher for me. It appears, in this at least, he was mistaken."

Croaker gave a short laugh and lent forward in his seat. "What makes you think that I, the head of the Unspeakables, should bother with an attention seeking, mentally unstable brat like you, who is so far under the thumb of the 'great Albus Dumbledore' it would take an excavation crew of Goblins to drag him out. Why would I waste my time and resources on some sheltered child with no idea of the realities of the wizarding world?"

"Eb!" Moody interjected, but Croaker shrugged off his comment and turned his expressionless gaze back to Harry's set face.

In the library behind Harry, Luna, who was speaking with Remus, the senior Tonks and their daughter, broke off mid-sentence, her gaze swinging immediately to Harry. Even as she moved towards him, the twins and Tonks did the same, all drawn by some sense that Harry needed them. The girls immediately sat to either side of him and grasped his rigid elbows, while Fred and George crouched down and rested a hand on each of his shoulders.

Harry, bent forward as he was with his head in the fire, immediately felt not just the comfort of their physical presence, but a warm sense of their support and belief in him. With far less effort than normal, he squashed down his temper and gave back as calm and emotionless an expression to the Unspeakable as Croaker had to him.

"Given that I and five school friends, not to mention a dozen Death Eaters and Voldemort himself, were able to enter nearly every section of your precious Department of Mysteries, doesn't say much for you or your Unspeakables, and please, don't try to pretend you aren't aware of the prophecy concerning me and Snake Face. I would also be completely unsurprised if you knew its contents. I was inviting you to my home under the assumption that, like me, your primary goal was the destruction of Voldemort and his followers. Instead, it appears you are just another arrogant, self-obsessed old man in some kind of pissing contest with Dumbledore, something I have no intention or interest of being involved with. If you eventually get your head out of your arse and decide that you do, in fact, want to do everything possible to destroy Voldemort, then send a message via Augusta or Neville. Until then Mr. Croaker, my invitation to you is revoked and you can kiss my arse."

With that, Harry pulled his head out of the fire and immediately called for Dobby, who popped in looking upset. "What is wrong Master Harry Potter Sir?" The little elf squeaked.

"Close and seal the floo Dobby, then please continue with what you were previously doing," Harry ordered. The elf nodded and clicked his fingers at the fireplace, which flashed blue for a moment, then he bowed to Harry and popped away.

Everyone in the library had fallen silent, clearly hearing Harry's final words. Augusta Longbottom shook her head and sighed. "I gather my brother said something foolish."

Harry, scowling fiercely, snorted. "You could say that, Madam. You could certainly say that."

-]---

Rita Skeeter was having a bad evening. Her beloved editor, Bernard Cuffe, had almost blown the vein in his forehead screaming at her for an hour about the lack of any worthwhile stories on the amazing Potter and his little band of friends.

The last three weeks had been horrendous from her point of view. No one in the Ministry was talking after the release of a brief statement from the idiot Fudge, that He Who Must Not Be Named had returned. There had been a complete lock-down on all comments to the media and no matter who she spoke to, threatened or even attempted to blackmail, she got nothing.

Her one and only foray into the Ministry itself in her beetle form had almost proved fatal when, of all people, Delores Umbridge had chased her around the Senior Staff tea room, attempting to smack her several times with a rolled up copy of '_Witch Weekly_'. Rita had barely escaped with her life.

All she had been able to discover was that Potter and 'others' had faced the Dark Lord somewhere within the Ministry itself. Being unable to find out anything else was driving her berserk, and her boss screaming at her had done little to improve her mood.

Rita doodled on a piece of parchment with her favorite '_Quik Quotes'_ quill. What could she do to draw out the Boy-Who-Was-Frustrating-Her?

All of a sudden, she had a brilliant idea. With that, she quickly packed her quill into her favorite crocodile skin handbag and trotted out to the foyer of '_The Prophet_', stepped into one of the fireplaces and threw down a pinch of floo powder.

"Arabella Figg's residence," she said. If she couldn't find out what Potter and his snotty little friends had been up to at the ministry, then by Merlin she'd go and dig up every bit of dirt she could find on his muggle relatives and hopefully plastering that all across the paper would bring her dear, sweet Harry out into the open.

-]---

"_He's a what?_" Harry exclaimed, totally and completely gob-smacked. He stared at his transfiguration teacher and Head of House with absolutely no idea what to say.

Minerva McGonagall sighed. "I must confess, Mr. Potter, that that was very much my reaction, when Sirius revealed it."

"Sirius? When did this happen, Professor?"

McGonagall gestured towards the chairs and they sat down and she proceeded to recall the meeting that had occurred some two months prior. At the end of her explanation, Harry shook his head and grinned ruefully.

"Now that I've had a chance to think about it a bit, Professor, I can see the beauty of such subterfuge. Are you sure Hagrid wasn't in Slytherin?"

Minerva barely managed to not snort her tea in a most unladylike manner. "Uh...no, no, he was definitely a Gryffindor. I thought long and hard about whether I should tell you about this or not Mr Potter, but I asked myself 'what would Sirius do?' and the answer was 'of course I would tell him.'"

Harry nodded then looked quite worried. "Professor," he said, "are you aware both Dumbledore and Snape are skilled Legilimens? I guess neither of them have ever thought it necessary to check Hagrid, or he's had some sort of training with the Unspeakables, but you, have you ever learned Occlumency?"

Minerva looked at him and frowned. "Just a moment Mr Potter," and she waved a hand towards Filius to catch his eye. The tiny Charms Master excused himself from Amelia Bones and came over to join his colleague. Min quickly explained what she'd been saying and Flitwick nodded slowly.

"I had been aware that both Albus and Severus had the ability, but I did not consider it in any way a problem for us," he said thoughtfully, then turned to look at Harry. "Why are you concerned Mr Potter?"

Harry looked at them both, shocked. "Don't you know that both of them use Legilimency on the students?" Both the professors' mouths fell open in shock.

"You can't be serious," Minerva said sharply.

Harry nodded. "Actually Professor, I am. You know those remedial potions lessons I was having for half of last year? They were actually Snape 'supposedly' teaching me Occlumency. Just earlier, when I met Mr. Lovegood, who is a mind healer, I had it confirmed all Snape had done was rip my mind to shreds. Odd has started the healing process, but it's going to take a lot more to fix all the damage Snape did."

Harry paused and took in the horrified expressions on his two favorite teachers' faces. "I swear to you both that Snape boasted several times about just how unguarded everyone around him was with their thoughts. I can only assume from that he's been legilimencing students whenever he feels like it. I think Dumbledore does the same as one of the ways of finding out what's going on around the school. I know they're doing it to the students, but now both of you know about Hagrid's secret, I'm very worried they could find out about him by legilimencing either of you."

The two teachers were clearly shocked, Minerva's eyes were glinting dangerously and her lips were clamped in a thin, bloodless line. Flitwick sighed and shook his head. "I can't fault your logic Mr Potter, but in my case, as a half goblin, Legilimency does not work on me, so Hagrid's secret is safe." He paused for a moment looking thoughtful. "That racial quirk might well be why I have been unaware of either of them trying to use it on myself or others previously. I simply would not have sensed it." He looked over at Minerva. "What of you Minerva?"

McGonagall shook her head, "I was thoroughly trained in Occlumency and Legilimency for my work during the Grindelwald years, and both Albus and Severus know that, so I doubt either would have attempted to read me." She stared at Harry for a long unnerving moment. "Had it been just about anyone other than you Mr Potter, I would have doubted the veracity of their statements. You, however, I believe. I will ensure that I check all my young lions for signs of tampering when school starts and I'm sure Filius will do the same for his Ravenclaws."

Harry was about to answer her when the front doorbell rang and a few minutes later, Alaster Moody and Ebenezer Croaker entered the library. Harry was immediately on his feet and strode furiously to the two men. How dare Mad-Eye bring that wanker into his home!

Immediately, every one of Harry's bonded and Liegemen turned to see what had distressed him and all moved as a group to back him up.

Mad-Eye raised both his hands in 'fending-off' gesture. "Hold your Hippogriffs, lad," he growled, "Eb has something he wants to say to you."

Croaker stepped forward, a genuine, warm smile on his face, and extended his hand.

"Mr Potter, I apologize for my rudeness before. It was more in the nature of a test, not so much of you personally, but of the influence or control Albus Dumbledore had over you. I am more pleased than I can say to see it is so much less than I thought. I am more than willing to pledge on my own behalf, and on behalf of my department, all the help and support we can give you in your on-going battle with Voldemort and his minions. I am indeed aware of the Prophecy, and have been attempting for a number of years to gain access to you to provide you with what I believed was the information and training you deserved. Now that you've managed to distance yourself somewhat from Dumbledore, perhaps we can finally work together. What do you say?"

-]---

Within a matter of minutes, Remus, Kingsley and the Grangers had moved everyone over to the chairs and organized them so that Remus was able to stand next to the table with the Pensieve and study the faces of his attentive audience.

Clearly and succinctly, he explained all that had happened in the previous twenty-four hours or so, then called on Harry to join him, who paused proceedings for a moment to ask if it was acceptable with Croaker to briefly discuss Hagrid. The senior Unspeakable agreed, and Minerva was called on to share the memory of the meeting with Sirius two months prior.

After everyone had settled down from finding out that Rubeus Hagrid was a spy, Remus once again took control and, with Harry's permission, took the group through each of his memories stored in the pensieve.

To say that everyone was shocked would be an understatement.

Amelia Bones immediately requested that Harry allow her to copy his memories so they could be studied in detail, to gain as much information as possible on the Dark Lord and his various followers. Croaker also asked for a copy of Voldemort's resurrection, as he felt there was much his researchers could learn from it, and thus provide Harry with more help. Once all that had been said and done, Remus looked around the group before he spoke, his expression deadly serious.

"Now that we all know these things, and have shared this information, I must ask each and every one of you to take an Unbreakable Vow, so as to protect Harry."

At this, Croaker raised his hand. "I agree such a level of security is required, Lupin, but actually I may have a better alternative. We Unspeakables have several variations of the _Fidelius _available to us. One is used by the Research Department to protect all its operatives in terms of what they know or have learned. I suggest casting such a thought _Fidelius _over us as a group, thereby protecting all this information about Potter, Hagrid and Voldemort without endangering lives as the Unbreakable Vow would do."

"I agree," Harry said forcefully. "I've no wish for all this information to become public, but I don't want it protected at the expense of anyone's life. I trust you, Mr. Croaker, to cast this _Fidelius, _but I wish for my house elf Dobby to be the secret keeper."

Needless to say, on his appearance, said house elf burst into tears and hugged Harry's knees, babbling about how wise and good his master was to trust Dobby with such a wizarding responsibility. It took the combined efforts of Hermione, Luna and Winky to get the distraught elf to let Harry go before he fell in a heap on his face.

Croaker immediately cast the spell, which was much more simple than Harry had imagined it would be, and immediately it was done, both Hermione and Luna raced off to frantically write down as many notes on the process as possible, Bill Weasley hanging over their shoulders, adding various bits and pieces.

Once that was all done, Harry called his elf and Winky to him, whispered something to them and they popped out. "Madam Bones," he said, attracting the formidable woman's attention. "Remember I said I had a way for you to check all your staff without it costing you anything?"

She nodded. "Indeed I do Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded at her. "Would everyone move back a bit please, and leave a space in the middle of the room?" Everyone did as he asked, and he stood in the space and said, "Dobby, Winky, ready when you are."

Immediately, there was an almost deafening '_pop_' as not just the Potter and Granger elves appeared, but at least another two dozen of the little creatures as well.

They were a sorry looking lot, all clad in mismatched, dirty clothing; they were thin and each and every one looked depressed and very, very frightened. Harry immediately knelt down and spoke to them as quietly and as gently as he could,

"Welcome to my home all of you. I know that Dobby and Winky, my friends and helpers, have explained a little of what I want to offer you. I'm asking each of you to look at the wizards and witches here in this room and please go to whichever one is most compatible with your magic. If you cannot find one, I will bond you as a Potter elf, as I promised all of you will have someone to care for, but you will all be working together with me and my Liegemen to fight against Voldemort and his evil. Do you all agree?"

All the bedraggled elves looked at each other then back at Harry, then all nodded or said 'yes sir' in little voices, then scattered across the library, each going to stand beside one or other of Harry's guests, one even standing between a startled Dan and Emma.

Harry stood up straight and clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. "When Director Bones mentioned her lousy budget, and Fudge's refusal to do anything about it, I had an idea. I thought of all the elves like Dobby and Winky had been, free elves with no-one to look after, so I sent my and Hermione's elves to bring as many of these free elves here as possible."

Harry smiled at Dobby, who got more tears in his eyes from sheer happiness. "I found out some very interesting things when I bonded with my elf, Dobby," he said, "more than I think most of us magical people ever bother to learn. It turns out that each elf's magic is more compatible with some wizards than others, and if an elf is in service to a family or wizard that is incompatible, their magic is subsequently much weaker. I also found out that the stronger the witch or wizard, the stronger the elf, and the more the elf is allowed to use their magic in service of their family, the stronger they get. The elf standing with each of you feels your magic is the best match to theirs. I'm going to ask each of you to bond this elf to you personally."

Harry raised a hand to stall any questions, then continued. " Besides giving these deserving beings a home and a decent life, I plan to use their unique abilities to help all of us in the fight against Voldemort. All these elves may end up not living with each of you full time, as I will have a dormitory set up here or wherever I eventually make my home. I'm also planning a central intelligence gathering and collection room where we will keep records from all of us, but I'll be doing more planning of that with some of you later." Here he paused to smile at Hermione and Remus in particular.

"These elves will work as an extension of our own group. Madam Bones, your new elves and all of ours, including Dobby and Winky, will be able to help check your staff and clean out any tracking spells. Dobby and Winky also assure me they can sense the Dark Mark, having lived with individuals bearing it, and can teach all of these elves how to do the same. With their help, you'll be able to clear out any and every hidden Death Eater in your department and possibly the Ministry. All of these elves have been free for some time, they need care, food and plenty of work to make them healthy again. Please treat them with the respect and care they deserve."

Amelia Bones pulled the monocle from her eye and stared at the young man standing before her, then down at the two obviously needy elves standing next to her. "Mr Potter," she said quietly, "you have single-handedly done more to assist me in maintaining order and peace in our community with this one simple idea, and I am kicking myself that I didn't think of it. Well done!"

-}---

The gathering at Grimmauld Place had finally wound down to something resembling the tea party from _"Alice in Wonderland"_ rather than a clandestine meeting of a rogue Order of the Phoenix. People had moved into smaller groups, tea cups in hand, to chat and socialize, while Dobby and Winky, having settled all the new elves into temporary quarters, were now drifting from group to group, ensuring cups and plates were kept full.

Just as Remus was putting his cup back on the tray Dobby was proffering, and preparing to call the crowd to order to finally get the move to Gringott's underway, the library fire suddenly flared green.

"Charlie Weasley, are y' there?" Hagrid's voice boomed. "Molly said y' were, I need a bit o' help."

Charlie excused himself from Augusta, Neville and the Grangers and strode to the fireplace, to hunker down in front of it. "What's up Hag… Merlin! What happened to you? Have you been wrestling the giant squid again or something?"

At this, the twins' heads jerked up and they glanced at each other before putting down their cups and moving in unison towards their brother. Harry, close on Charlie's heels, bent forward to see the half-giant's face more clearly – and gasped.

Hagrid was sporting a smooshed bloody nose, two magnificent black eyes and most of his beard had been burned off. What there was left of his clothes were ripped to shreds, his hirsute, brawny shoulders covered in bruises. He looked a complete mess. "Don' worry 'bou' me," he snapped. "S'not important. Oh, 'arry! Just th' other lad I needed."

"Um, Hagrid…" Harry said, "You can drop the accent. Professor McGonagall told us about your meeting with Sirius, and Mr. Croaker said its okay for us to know."

The half-giant stared at him for a moment, then nodded. "That's a relief actually,'" he said, before switching his attention back to Charlie. "Charlie, Norbert's here, and he's got a message for Harry."

Charlie's expression was comical. "Um… he… er… _spoke_ to you, Hagrid?" Harry glanced at Charlie, realizing he thought Hagrid had gone around the twist.

"Don't look at me like that, Charles Aloysius Weasley!" Hagrid snarled, something so out of character for the usually jovial gamekeeper that Charlie fell forward on his knees in shock. "And don't go telling me you don't know dragons are telepathic."

"Telepathic?" Harry echoed, glancing from the man beside him to the one who's head very nearly filled the entire fireplace.

All the other guests had drifted over to hear the conversation and Harry half heard them repeating the word among themselves with varying degrees of surprise.

"Well, actually Hagrid, no-one's proved that they are," Charlie said carefully. "Our observations suggest it, but there's never been direct dragon/human contact to prove it."

"Well there bloody has now!" Hagrid growled. "Young Norbert's been downright chatty, telling me he's been sent by some _Dragon Council_ or the other because he imprinted on me as his mummy. Seems they're quite interested in Harry and his 'Dark Lord problem', as Norbert put it."

"They are?" Harry squeaked, then coughed in embarrassment at his voice.

"Oh indeed," Hagrid said, "very interested in you they are! They know you're a Parselmouth and all. They've sent a message to you. According to Norbert, you need to collect blood from the dragon friend – that's you Charlie – and from Norbert himself. He wants you to come and collect it now, Charlie."

"He does?"

"Yes, he wants to be heading back to Romania as soon as he possibly can."

Charlie cracked his knuckles and stood. "Right. Just give me a sec to collect my gear and I'll come through. Where are you calling from?"

Hagrid smiled, a not altogether reassuring sight, given the state of his face. "I'm in Professor Sprout's office at the rear of Green House Six," he said.

"Fine, oh, thanks Remus," Charlie said, taking a small package from the werewolf.

Before he could step through the emerald flames, Fred and George each grabbed one of his arms, identical grins on their faces.

"We'll be coming too," one said, possibly George, Charlie thought.

"We need to speak to someone," Fred? added, brandishing one of the crystal needles in a small vial.

"What are you two hellspawn up to?" Charlie growled, his gaze flicking from one twin to the other.

"Helping Harry," they said in unison, then dragged Charlie out of the way, ducked past him and vanished through the fire.

"I better get going before they do something destructive," Charlie said with a sigh.

"Details," Harry said with the poke of a finger to Charlie's chest. "Lots of details… and watch out for Dumbledore!"

Charlie nodded, grinning, his gaze flicking ever so briefly to Neville, who colored slightly, then the dragon keeper stepped into the fire and was gone.

-}---

Finally, Remus had everyone organized into two groups – those bound for Gringott's and those not.

Moody, Croaker, Amelia Bones, who had the shrunken pensieve in her pocket, Odd Lovegood, Andi and Ted Tonks, Augusta Longbottom and the two professors made up the second group. Croaker tapped his tea cup with his wand, creating a portkey for them to the Ministry of Magic foyer, where all of them would be able to use the public floos to return to home or work.

Mad-Eye glared at Tonks and Shack. "You two are to stay glued to Potter," he growled. "Me and Amelia will smooth everything over with Scrimgoeur."

Tonks batted her suddenly six inch long eyelashes at him, then at Harry. "I like the sound of that order!" She said, and giggled in a totally girlish manner.

"Thanks," Shack said, elbowing her in the ribs, and Tonks grinned cheekily at her grouchy old mentor, her hair cycling between her usual pink and an eye-searing orange.

Croaker tapped his saucer with his wand and it too glowed blue. "This is to the portkey point in the bank," he said gruffly. "One of the benefits of my position is that neither of these will be traced." He stuck his hand out to Harry and they shook. "I like you lad, and I'll be in contact. Good luck with the goblins. If Black's done what I think he has, you'll need it." With that cryptic comment, he picked up the cup and his companions all touched it. Remus nodded to Winky, who dropped the anti portkey ward – and they were gone. She immediately clicked her fingers, bringing the ward back up.

"What did he mean by that?" Harry asked nervously. Neville clapped him on the shoulder.

"Most likely nothing Harry," he said calmly. "Uncle Ed likes unsettling people. I think it amuses him."

"Great," Harry groused, then the fire abruptly flared green and Charlie tumbled out, the precious pouch cradled protectively against his broad chest. Dan and Shack went to help him up as he sprawled at their feet, Neville taking the package as Charlie held it out to him.

"Cool!" Harry exclaimed. "I'm not the only one who falls out of the floo."

"Huh!" Charlie grunted, dusting himself off. "Pomona Sprout was coming, so Hagrid literally threw me headfirst into the fire. Bloody near cracked my skull open on the back of the fire place."

Everyone laughed until Hermione, who had been looking at a book with Bill, spoke up. "Um… Charlie? Where are the twins?"

"Aren't they back yet?" Charlie demanded. "Shit! They wouldn't tell me who they were seeing either, they just bolted from the greenhouse and said they'd be back before I had time to miss them."

Just then, the fire belched out a huge tongue of green flame and the last two Weasleys rocketed out as if on brooms.

Tonks and Luna caught one, and they crashed to the floor in a laughing heap, while Harry intercepted the other who, he realized, was George.

George, like Charlie, was stocky, muscular and much heavier than slender Harry, who had no hope of staying on his feet as George careened into him. They went down hard, George twisting his torso frantically, to avoid crushing the smaller boy like a bug. Harry, not expecting the move, ended up crash landing atop a warm, broad chest, groin to groin, with enough force to bring tears to both their eyes.

Winded, and in considerable pain, neither moved for several long seconds, until the snickering of their audience registered.

Harry abruptly realized he had his head tucked under George's chin, one of the redhead's brawny arms wrapped around him, holding him firmly against his much larger body, and one of Harry's legs was tightly wedged between both of George's, placing certain parts of their anatomy in close… very close... proximity.

Harry frantically tried to get up, but only managed to put his hands all over George, registering just how muscular he was, how warm and firm and… and… Mortified, he scrambled away from his Bonded, managing to knee him quite firmly in the personals in the process.

"Urk!" George grunted explosively. "Merlin's balls, Harry! Watch the tackle!" He groaned, clutching himself.

Harry scrambled to his feet, and for the umpteenth time that day, was certain his face was going to explode, he was blushing so much. Fred, who'd extricated himself from Luna and Tonks, thoroughly kissed but otherwise unscathed, came over and poked him in the shoulder.

"Oi! Potter! How come George gets to be felt up by you and I don't, huh?"

"Wha… wha?" Harry's brain refused to work, all the blood sucked out of it, most of it to fill his flaming cheeks.

Fred grinned at him. "We twins, not to mention Bonded, do everything together mate. I demand equal groping time!" He said, and yanked a spluttering Harry into his arms.

Once again, Harry found his head tucked under a Weasley chin, his face pressed into a hard, muscular Weasley chest, a pair of brawny Weasley arms wrapped around him. It felt… wonderful…

"Well...if you have to share _everything_..." he murmured, just so Fred could hear him, then, with an evil grin, his knee shot up and collected Fred in the same place it had George.

"_Urk!_" Fred's hands dropped to clutch his abused crotch and he collapsed onto his face next to his twin.

"Good to see you being so even-handed, or should I say, even-kneed, Harry," Bill choked out, before roaring with laughter.

Tonks, a glint in her eye as evil as Harry's, swaggered up to him, morphing as she came. "Since it looks like the only way I'm going to get any of the action, is if I look like a Weasley, how's this?' she said, now completely indistinguishable, except for her Auror uniform, from Fred and George.

Without time to even open his mouth, Harry found himself in the embrace of what appeared to be yet another Weasley twin, who kissed him enthusiastically and then held him at arm's length.

"Ooh, ooh, me too!" Luna exclaimed, pulling her wand from behind her ear and twirling it over herself.

Harry had barely time to mutter for help to no one in particular before the glamor settled and Tonks helpfully thrust him into the wide open arms of a fourth Weasley twin. Even as Luna Weasley was attempting to remove his tonsils with her tongue, Harry heard Remus say "Merlin, I think I'm jealous."

Emma's silverly laugh joined the werewolf's deeper one. "Think? I _know_ I am," she said.

"Hey!" Dan exclaimed, and everyone watching laughed. Luna released Harry whose lips started twitching then he burst out laughing too.

Finally, everyone settled down and Charlie greeted his twin brothers. "So where did you two go while I was busy with Norbert?" he asked.

"Had to get this," George said, as Fred pulled out a familiar looking crystal vial in which was sealed another of the crystal needles. In it was blood so dark red it was almost black, with tiny green motes of light twinkling in it.

"Who's that from?" Hermione asked curiously.

"This, my fine young witch, is a gift from a great friend of ours," Fred said.

"A great telepathic, aquatic, ancient friend," George added.

"Squidly!" They chorused together.


	6. Reflections of Many Kinds

_Author's Note:_ Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed and fav'ed my story – it gives me a warm fuzzy just knowing y'all are enjoying this! I won't be answering you individually, but I do take to heart all that you say and suggest.

This fic has a "T" rating, and while there is the mention of both slash and multi relationships, they are not center stage, and won't be graphic. HP/LL/NT/FW/GrW, NL/CW, BW/HG, RL/KS, mention of RL/SB.

**PLEASE NOTE:** There is some violence and bloodshed in this chapter.

I own nothing except the plot. J. is the Big Cheese.

Now – on with the story! Oh, and _**PLEASE REVIEW!!**_

Chapter Six: Reflections Of Many Kinds.

In all her years serving wizards, Winky had never been happier. The dark blurry days of her despair were over and she was, once again, properly enslaved - to an amazingly strong young witch who, whilst somewhat misguided, was both kind and teachable.

Winky hummed to herself as she flickered through the various occupied bedrooms of Grimmauld Place, her magic flowing so freely now it was an almost visible wave lapping around her. She was performing her duties with no more than a thought and a twitch of her long bony fingers, and it felt wonderful to be able to work so swiftly again.

As she finished tidying the bedrooms and moved downstairs into the public areas of the house, Winky considered what she would need to _Share_ with Tansy, the young elf enslaved by Miss Mione's parents. She hadn't had much formal training, but she was keen to learn and had asked many excellent questions. Winky had high hopes for her, but knew it would be a day or so before Tansy, or any of the other new elves for that matter, were physically and mentally strong enough to cope with the _Sharing _process. This gave her and Dobby time to plan all of the things they would need to _Share,_ to ensure the safety and security of Dobby's Harry Potter Sir and all his Liegemen and allies.

With barely a thought, Winky moved from the lounge and library, zipped through the kitchen, tidying as she went, and down into the basement to ensure that all was ready for Master Remus' next transformation.

Moving so fast was a new experience for her. It had been years since she had felt anything even remotely approaching this much magic flowing through the Bond. Her old Master Crouch had been elderly and had always begrudged her pull on his magic. He, like so many wizards, had thought elves were little more than animals and he had never understood the true potential of a strong Bond, had never tried to build the connection into a true Symbiosis, instead seeing her as not worthy of his magic, acceptance or love.

It was strange how such things worked Winky mused, casually destroying a lone Doxy that was single-handedly trying to infest the kitchen curtains. Dobby was so very proudly a… a… _free_ _elf _(she shuddered) yet he and Harry Potter Sir had reached the primary stage of Symbiosis by the time the young wizard was fourteen, when Dobby had willingly risked terrible danger by stealing Gillyweed from the Cruel Man for his beloved friend.

Winky smiled. For all his odd ways, Dobby was a good elf. He had been so kind to her when she'd been trying to drink herself to death, so gentle and patient. And his magic!

Winky shuddered delicately. The feel of Dobby's magic was amazing. It made her think of mating and sprogs… many powerful sprogs. She paused in the middle of cleaning the main bathroom and sighed wistfully. With all that was happening to his beloved master, Dobby had asked her to wait a while before they approached their owners to ask for permission to mate and have sprogs.

It wasn't easy. Every day, Dobby became _more_, developing a range, depth and precision to his magic Winky had never seen before. With all the new elves in the house, she had been worried he would be tempted away, drawn to one of the younger she-elves, wanting someone better than old, weak Winky.

But once again, Dobby, her Dobby, had surprised her.

He'd given her the First Bite and had promised her he'd ask Harry Potter Sir about them mating just as soon as the blood adoption was done and they'd all returned from Gringott's. That he had gone with such a powerful group of witches and wizards on such an important mission made Winky's heart swell with pride.

With a sigh, Winky carefully touched her right shoulder. The bite mark there was perfect – just breaking the skin. She stroked it with her finger tips, feeling the tingle of Dobby's magic in the marks, feeling the warmth flowing down through her body, starting to prepare her for making sprogs. She was so looking forward to receiving the next Three Bites and returning them!

With an odd little snort, Winky shook herself and finished the bathroom, then paused for a moment to let her magic flow outward through all the wards surrounding and permeating the house. Thanks to Miss. Mione's strength of magic and open affection, plus Harry Potter Sir's love and trust, Winky could sense the entirety of the property, from the lowest sub-basement up to the attic, where once Buckbeak the Hippogriff had lived.

She let her mind flow along the magical pathways, checking their strength and integrity. Harry Potter Sir had left her in charge and had ordered that no one other than one of the group with him or he himself were allowed into the house by any means until he returned. Winky intended to ensure the house remained inviolate. Even the owl redirection charm was under her control and it, like all the other protections, including the _Fidelius,_ and the seal over the floo, were fully charged and functional.

She also took it extremely seriously that she was responsible for the safety of Miss Mione's parents, for without magic, Winky knew she was all that stood between them and many witches or wizards who might wish to hurt them. Finding everything as it should be, Winky trotted back to the kitchen and started contemplating what she would cook for dinner.

Just as she placed a large leg of lamb into the oven to begin roasting, there was a huge jolt against the barrier on the floo, so unexpected she squeaked and dropped the heavy baking dish, peeled potatoes and other vegetables rolling in all directions.

With a horrified gasp, Winky ignored the floo, knowing no one could enter via it, and instead set about the far more important business of rescuing her masters' and mistresses' dinner.

-]---

Molly Weasley was having a good day. With only Ronald and Ginny in the house, she had had plenty of time to do all the chores that had been put off for all sorts of reasons over the last few weeks, and now she was in the last stages of preparing for their move to headquarters.

Ronald was outside giving the garden a final degnoming, whilst Ginny was checking everyone's rooms to ensure everything necessary was packed. Humming to herself, Molly folded the last of the clean laundry and left it stacked neatly in the basket on the kitchen table. She would shrink it down later with the rest of their luggage for ease of transport.

Pausing for a moment, she smiled fondly at the family clock, all the hands indicating her children were either at home, work, or in transit, most likely out and about around headquarters putting up those extra wards Remus had been talking about. She loved the clock, a Prewitt family heirloom, and carefully lifted it down from it's usual place and laid it atop the clean laundry.

She smiled fondly at Bill's hand; it was well and truly time for her eldest son to settle down, especially now he was back in England working at Gringott's main branch, instead of gallivanting all over who knew where in those filthy, dangerous tombs!

Molly allowed herself a small moment of smug, self-congratulation. Getting rid of that French floozy had been all too easy. A carefully worded, anonymous letter to her parents, focusing on all the inherit dangers of He Who Must Not Be Named's return had seen the half-breed minx packed off back to France at satisfying speed.

Of course Bill didn't need to know any of that, as she was his mother and knew what was best for him. She had her eye on a few nice, pure-blood English witches, and once she had decided which one was right for her Bill, she'd get them together.

Her thoughts drifted from her eldest to her second son and with a small frown she contemplated Charlie's matrimonial prospects. At least she'd managed to get him away from those horrible dragons! Mind you, he'd never shown much interest in girls and she was starting to think she would have to "take steps" to correctly, and appropriately, refocus his inclinations.

Sadly, Molly traced the outline of her third-born's clock hand, her heart heavy. In spite of his estrangement from the family, she was far less concerned about Percy, as she had it on good authority that he was still seeing that nice girl Penelope Clearwater. Whilst she was only a half-blood, her father had numerous solid political contacts and that could only benefit Percy's future career.

For a moment, Molly's eyes dimmed and her cheerful expression faltered. She missed Percy, and felt so uninvolved in his life and was always anxious that he was still on the path she had envisioned for him. So far, that appeared to be the case, and even if Arthur refused to use any of his limited influence for his ambitious son, Molly had others in the Ministry who owed much to the Prewitts and would keep an eye on Percy for her.

The Twins… Molly shook her head. What she was to do with these two, she had no idea! Whilst she had always managed to keep track of them, she could never encourage them to follow her advice, and every time they had found any hint of her attempting to help them, they had gone out of their way to sabotage it. The fact that their shop was proving to be such a success irked her no end as she had absolutely no contacts there and could not offer them the benefits of her supervision and advice. They wouldn't even tell her how they had got their startup money!

Molly shook her head. What had she ever done to cause them to distrust her so? As to ever finding them suitable wives, she was most concerned this would prove close to impossible. She knew that they had had fleeting relationships with those three hussies from the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and she had been so relieved when those had faded, as such unacceptable connections should. However, their unhealthy interest and concern for young Harry worried her. They seemed to have more loyalty and devotion to him than to her and their family. Clearly, she needed to bind Harry to Ginny as quickly as possible.

With that thought clearly in mind, Molly headed for the kitchen to check the two self-stirring cauldrons on the bench there.

Peering into their depths, she saw the correct opalescent sheen and the rising spiraling steam that signified the potions were ready. With great care, she added seven black hairs to one cauldron and seven bushy brown hairs to the other, then swiftly, and with considerable skill, bottled the contents of both cauldrons into dozens of single dose vials, each labeled so that Ron and Ginny would not get them confused.

She carefully packed both sets of potions away into protective cloth bags, thoughtfully provided by the Headmaster. After all, as he had said, whilst patiently teaching her how to flawlessly create the improved version of the potion, it was for the Greater Good, not just for the wizarding world in general, but for her son and daughter as well.

On his instructions, Molly had carefully nurtured Ginny's devotion to Harry for many years, and now all that planning and preparation was about to bear fruit. Meanwhile Ron, with all of his problems with school, his laziness and his general lack of focus and direction, would benefit greatly from having a girl like Hermione to take care of him. Of course, they would not marry, as he would need a pure-blood witch for that, but by the time Molly was certain Hermione had fulfilled her purpose in her son's life, Ron would be in a secure position in the ministry and would no longer need the services of the mud...er..._Muggleborn_.

Abruptly, Molly realized it was well and truly time she and the children were on their way. With that, she called Ron in from the garden and Ginny down from her room. With a flick of her wand, she cleaned up her son, who had clearly been wrestling with some very recalcitrant gnomes, for he was covered in mud, grass stains and blood from several bites. As she was finishing that, Ginny came flouncing down the stairs, her trunk floating along behind her.

Molly handed each of her children their individual bundles of potion and oversaw them hiding them in their respective trunks which she then shrank, along with the linen basket, and placed them in her apron pockets. She then herded the two squabbling teens into the fireplace, took a handful of floo powder and stepped in with them, before throwing it onto the ground and saying "Twelve Grimmauld Place."

There was a brief sensation of traveling with the accompanying vertigo and flashes of numerous fireplaces, then…

_CRASH! _

Dazedly, Molly slowly picked herself up off the floor, dimly realizing her children had broken her fall, a trickle of blood running down her cheek from a cut on her forehead. Her clothes were all askew, and Ron and Ginny lay in a tumbled heap on the floor at her feet, both groaning. It took her several moments to clear her befuddled head enough to realize they had been reflected back from the fireplace at headquarters.

"What in Merlin's name is going on?" She demanded of no-one in particular. She stalked back to the fireplace, threw down another pinch of floo powder, snapped out the same address and stuck her head into the resultant green flames. She'd get to the bottom of this, or her name wasn't Molly Ginevra Weasley!

She came to a few minutes later, her throbbing head in Ginny's lap, Ron putting a cool wet cloth on her forehead.

"What's going on Mum?" Her son demanded. "That was the second time you got thrown out of the floo."

Molly struggled to sit up and clutched her head, certain she was going to be sick. She directed Ginny to bring her a headache potion from the kitchen cupboard and stared at her son with bloodshot eyes.

"Don't worry about it Ronald, Mummy will deal with it."

Having drunk the potion, and feeling a trifle better, Molly once again approached the fireplace, floo powder in hand. However, _this _time she called out "Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts School" as she threw down the powder and the emerald flames flared up.

-]---

Other than not being able to find out where his phoenix had gone, Albus Dumbledore had spent a very pleasant afternoon and evening and was now contemplating just what he would have for dinner. Sitting back in his comfortable office chair, he allowed his eyes to close as he considered the qualities of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, as opposed to a hearty Irish stew. With these pleasant thoughts dancing in his head, the Headmaster dozed off....

"ALBUS!"

As if he had been jabbed with a cattle prod, Dumbledore leaped out of his seat, painfully cracking his left knee against the underside of his desk, right across his birthmark shaped like a map of the London Underground. Hopping round his office and cursing under his breath, he clutched his throbbing knee until he finally was able to focus on the face of Molly Weasley floating in his fireplace. He managed to swallow many very ill-advised comments as the stupid woman profusely apologized for interrupting his privacy.

"What is it Molly?" He finally managed to cut through her babbling.

"It's headquarters, Albus. For some reason, the floo access is closed and I and the children are unable to enter. What's going on?"

Albus looked at her for a long moment. "Nothing is going on to the best of my knowledge," he said. "Have you had any contact with either Remus or Harry today?"

Molly nodded vigorously. "Remus called earlier and asked Bill and Charlie to go to headquarters to put up some new wards he'd discovered in a book from the library. Charlie was going to keep an eye on Harry and Hermione while Remus and Bill worked. Could the new wards have damaged the floo connection?"

Albus thought about this for a moment then shook his head. "I doubt that very much Molly. Clearly, there is some minor glitch, I will sort it out and get back to you momentarily."

Molly smiled. "Thank you Albus, I look forward to hearing from you." She went to pull her head out of the fire, then paused and came back. "Oh, and Albus, I completed the other business and it's all set to go."

Albus waved a hand dismissively. "Excellent, excellent. I'll speak to you further about that later," and with that, he shut down the floo connection. Frowning, he stared at the fireplace for a long moment, then threw a pinch of floo powder in and requested Grimmauld Place.

Straightening his robes, he stepped into the fire, only to be violently flung out again a few moments later. He crashed onto his desk, all of his carefully organized piles of paperwork wafting around like numerous autumn leaves. With a snarl, he whipped out his wand, straightened his robes and with a distinctly angry '_pop_', disapperated.

He appeared on the steps directly outside the house, strode up them and grasped the front door handle, preparatory to flinging it open so as to make a grand entrance.

He came to in a crumpled heap at the base of the steps, his entire left arm numb from fingertips to shoulder.

The doorknob had electrocuted him.

Eyes glinting with anger, the Supreme Mugwump hauled himself to his feet, once again rearranged his robes and marched back up the steps. This time, instead of grasping the doorknob, he pounded a loud tattoo with the knocker.

Inside the house, Winky floated a couple of feet off the floor so that her eye was level with the spy hole just below where the knocker was. She could see the Headmaster was not happy. Gathering up all her courage, she spoke loudly enough that he could hear her through the door.

"You is needing to go away. The masters are busy and you is not coming in."

Albus was, to put it mildly, taken aback. "Now Winky, it's me, Headmaster Dumbledore. Let me in please." He said in his most avuncular tone.

Through the door he could hear her squeaky little voice. "No sir, you is not coming in, I is being ordered to admit no one."

Albus frowned. "Enough of this nonsense Winky, admit me at once!" He snapped, leaning forward to place his eye against the spy hole in a vain attempt to look inside the house.

Inside, Winky sighed and hoped Harry Potter Sir would not be angry with her, as she reached out and touched her side of the spy hole with one long bony finger.

"AAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Albus shrieked, as a jet of flame shot out of the spy hole, hitting him right in the eye, setting both his eyebrows and hair on fire and sending him stumbling back, to once again fall down the steps.

Several moments of pain-filled flailing later, Albus finally managed to put out the flames with his robes, cast a healing charm on his eye (which needed it), straightened out his far from pristine garments into some sort of order and growled.

"Right, that's it," he said to himself, "I've had enough of this!" And he pulled out his watch, tapped it with his wand so it glowed blue and whispered "_Portus"._

Winky, watching all this through the slightly charred spy hole, tensed and flung all of her magic into the anti-portkey ward. She wasn't sure she would be strong enough, but she would do everything she could to fulfill Harry Potter Sir's orders.

With the normal sensation of a hook tugging behind his navel, Albus Dumbledore disappeared in a swirling vortex of magic, his destination, the kitchen. A split second later, he felt his progress slowing, slowing, slowing, and then, with a mighty rebound, as if he had struck a muggle trampoline, he was suddenly traveling at great speed _away_ from his intended target. He barely had time to think 'this is impossible!' before his world exploded.

-]---

Hyde Park was beautiful all year, but Sergeant Mountain was of the opinion it was at its most beautiful in late summer. The air was balmy, the trees clad in dozens of different shades of green, the scent of flowers, rich soil and the damp grass under the sprinklers intoxicating and it was, without a doubt, the best foot patrol he could ask for. Even having to babysit a brand new constable could in no way ruin his good mood. It was a truly beautiful evening.

The two police officers strolled along the gravel path, nodding politely to the various people they passed, many of them tourists, stepping aside as several young men and women on horseback trotted past.

Young Constable Parrett cocked her head and frowned slightly. "Excuse me Sarge," she said, "do you hear something?"

At first, Mountain was going to have a bit of a go at her for imagining things, but then he heard it too.

"aaaaaaaaaaAAAAAA_AAHHHHHHH!_"

There was a whirl of color and something large crash-landed, with a spectacular splash, into a horse trough some thirty meters ahead of them.

"Fuck!" Mountain exclaimed, and the two coppers ran up to see what had happened.

Several other interested passers-by had already gathered, to be greeted by the sight of long, skinny naked legs and withered buttocks protruding from the trough, in which was a large pile of sodden bright green and purple fabric. The legs were kicking feebly, so whoever it was was clearly still alive.

The two police officers struggled to remove the individual, and, in the end, had to literally strip him, for it was all-too-clearly a him, because his bizarre clothing was far too heavy to remove from the water.

What they extracted was a skinny old man with a severe black eye, exceptionally long gray hair and beard, both of which had been, at some point, severely singed, no eyebrows and a very large lump on his forehead.

"Come on Granddad, out you come," Sergent Mountain said kindly, completely ignoring, for the moment, how an elderly gentleman in a dress had ended up falling out of the sky into one of the Hyde Park horse troughs. "Lets get you out of there and get a doctor to look at you." As he was saying this, the young constable was whispering into her radio, requesting a police van and a police doctor on standby.

"Oy, settle down," Mountain said firmly, as the old gent started to struggle with him, trying to get back to the trough for some reason. "Parrett, give us a hand," he shouted, as he was dragged towards the trough, the old man raving about his wand. "Come on Granddad, your wand's fine. Look, it's right there, on your front, where it's always been. Now come on and stop giving us a hard time." The old boy glared at him rather cross-eyed, and somehow managed to slide out of his grasp and plunge himself headfirst back into the trough.

"Oh for fucks' sake," Mountain said under his breath, and together, he and Parrett wrestled the insane old fool onto the ground, handcuffed him and were just dragging him to his feet when the police van arrived. They wrapped him in a blanket and unceremoniously shoved him in the back of the van, where he continued to yell for his wand.

Parrett looked at her sergeant. "What is it about men and their wands...er...penises sir?" She asked.

Mountain just shook his head. "If I ever get like that, Constable, I'll shoot myself. Now help me get this crap out of the trough."

-]---

Crookshanks woke and stretched with all the sensuous grace only a feline was capable of, blinked his large golden eyes, and looked around. He'd gone to sleep in one of his favorite corners in the conservatory of Grimmauld Place, a warm spot lit by afternoon sun. He felt restless, and with abrupt clarity, realized that he needed to be with his Mistress.

Being a Familiar gave him an awareness of the witch he was bonded to far beyond anything an ordinary cat or kneazle could have. He knew, without a shadow of doubt, that his Hermione was going to need him, but she was far away and he had no idea how he would get to her in time.

Even as he thought that, there was a flash of flame and with a trill of phoenix song, his friend Fawkes dive-bombed him playfully before dropping down and carefully digging his claws into the half-kneazel's thick fur. For a moment, the two magical creatures communicated silently then vanished in a swirl of fire.

-]---

Hedwig had spent a quiet morning hunting rats and mice, always with an eye out for the rat with the metal foot that her Harry Wizard wanted caught so badly. Sadly, she hadn't found it that day, but instead something had prompted her to go to Diagon Alley, the sure knowledge that her Harry Wizard would be there later and would need her.

She perched on the sign outside the shop that contained other owls as it gave her a very clear view along the alley. The day passed and she drowsed in the warm sunlight until, with a jolt, she felt her wizard arrive in the big white building further up the alley.

As she prepared to go and join him, she noticed one of the strange creatures that lived in there sneak out, behaving like prey avoiding a predator. This caught her attention, as these creatures, these goblins, never behaved like that.

She watched him approach the owl shop and saw he was holding a rolled up piece of parchment, just the size to attach to an owl's leg. Some instinct told her whatever was in that letter, it was bad for her Harry Wizard. The goblin looked carefully around the alley before sneaking into Eeylop's and he emerged a couple of minutes later holding a common-looking barn owl, to which he had attached his letter. He threw the owl into the air and scurried off back to Gringott's.

Now Hedwig was a very smart owl. She knew the goblins had their own postal birds, and tended to use either eagle owls or falcons of some kind, so the fact that this goblin had come down to hire a common post owl clearly meant he was hiding something. Without a second thought, the magnificent snowy owl leaped into the air and chased after the barn owl in the distance.

It only took her a couple of minutes before she caught up with it, and without warning, she flew in and attacked it, driving the smaller bird towards the ground. With one swipe of her razor-sharp beak, she tore the message off its leg, gave it a good cuff around the head with one wing that sent it fleeing from her, then she picked up the message and immediately headed back to Diagon Alley. She had to take whatever this was to her Harry Wizard.

-]---

Croaker's portkey delivered Harry and his group to the cordoned-off area of the foyer of Gringott's bank, and the moment he'd been picked up off the floor by several of his laughing companions, Harry headed towards an unoccupied teller. This was an older goblin who looked down at Harry and sneered.

"Well?" he snarled.

Harry raised an eyebrow in a expression that was eerily reminiscent of Emma Granger. "I wish to see the account manager, Hackblade," he said, "as directed by Lord Sirius Black."

The goblin stared at him for a long moment then nodded. "I'll fetch him," he said, before he disappeared into the maze of corridors behind the tellers' bench.

Harry took the time to look around the huge marble foyer and after a few moments, he frowned, feeling distinctly uncomfortable, but he didn't know why. The bank was not particularly busy but there were an unusually large number of goblins simply standing about in twos or threes, not apparently doing anything.

"Remus," Harry hissed. "Something's not right."

The werewolf surreptitiously scanned the area as did Shack and both men very carefully drew their wands, holding them against their thighs, out of sight amongst their robes. Seeing this, Bill, Hermione, Charlie, Neville, Luna, Tonks and the Twins all moved in closer and also drew their wands, as did Harry.

Harry looked down at his house elf, who was standing very close beside his leg, tugging on one of his ears. "Dobby," he whispered, "can you stay invisible and close to me?"

"I is doing so," Dobby muttered back, and faded from view, Harry feeling the invisible elf grasp a small handful of his robe to let him know where he was.

At that moment, the surly teller returned, followed by a tall, thin goblin with a particularly shifty expression. The newcomer looked Harry over from head to foot and barely managed to avoid sneering.

"You are Harry Potter?" he said, and Harry simply nodded, the goblin grunted, spun on his heel and walked off, throwing a "follow me" over his shoulder as he did. As they all moved to follow, Harry noticed the teller prop a 'closed' sign on his desk and scurry out of the bank. He, Shack and Remus exchanged glances, then continued to follow Hackblade.

After several minutes of walking through various corridors, they reached an office with Hackblade's name on the door, but before they could enter, a small, much younger goblin rushed up and bowed to Hackblade, then to Harry.

"Excuse me, Senior Accounts Manager and Lord Potter," he said between gasping breaths, "but Director Ragnok has asked that your meeting take place in his office, if that is convenient."

Hackblade's expression became closed and rigid and he nodded just once.

Harry, smiled at the younger goblin. "Of course," he said. "Please tell Director Ragnok that we would be honored to join him." The young goblin bowed and ran off back up the hall.

Without a word, Hackblade followed, Harry and his group straggling along behind.

As they moved, everyone fell into a defensive mode, Remus leading, followed by the invisible Dobby, then Tonks and Luna with Harry directly behind them, Bill and Hermione to his left, Neville and Charlie to his right, the twins behind him and Kingsley bringing up the rear.

After another couple of minutes of brisk walking, they entered a magnificent hallway lined with black marble, and rapidly approached a massive pair of doors that appeared to be cast of solid gold. These swung inward as Hackblade reached them, revealing a magnificent secretary's office, in which a group of twenty heavily armed goblin guards were standing, as well as the first female goblin Harry had ever seen. "The Chief of Clan Chiefs, Director Ragnok Blooddrinker, is expecting you," she said. "Please come with me."

She led them to another set of doors on the far side of the antechamber, which opened as she approached. "Senior Accounts Manager Hackblade, Lord Harry Potter, and entourage," she announced loudly, before backing out and shutting the doors behind her.

Harry looked around. The office was almost as large as the entire ground floor of the Dursley's house in Little Whinging! Though, for all its size, its furnishings were very tasteful and subdued, not at all what Harry had been expecting.

To the left was a long oak table surrounded by many chairs, while directly ahead, across a particularly beautiful oriental carpet, was a massive rosewood desk at least three times the size of Dumbledore's. To the right was a massive black marble fireplace in which an obviously magical fire, due to the flames being shifting shades of purple, was burning merrily, and grouped in front of it was a comfortable-looking set of couches and armchairs, scattered around a table laden with many types of finger-food and a handsome gold tea service,

There were few signs that this was the office of a non-human. The only things giving it away were several dozen beautifully made goblin weapons mounted on the walls, one of which looked remarkably like the sword of Gryffindor, although the gems in the hilt were massive amethysts, and on a stand behind the desk was a superbly wrought set of goblin armor buffed to perfection and gleaming in the light of the many lamps and candles. All in all, the room was most welcoming for all that it was very large.

Harry pulled his attention back to the center of the room where a goblin stood waiting. He was a head shorter than Harry himself and obviously quite old, if the tufts of white hair sticking out his ears was any indication. His skin was the color of moldy old parchment, his beady eyes black and gleaming and he was dressed in a most spectacular suit of dark purple velvet that was nicely set off by a pair of pointy-toed bright red dragonhide boots.

Without any further hesitation, Harry advanced, one hand outstretched. He had no idea what the proper protocols were for meeting either a Clan Chief or a Director, so he could only go with what he felt was right.

"Director Ragnok, it is an honor and a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for taking a personal interest in my financial and adoption issues," Harry said, looking the goblin straight in the eye.

This seemed to please Ragnok, for he grinned widely, without displaying any teeth, and extended his own heavily clawed hand and grasped Harry's. "Well met, Lord-Elect Potter," he said in a deep gravely voice Harry felt was entirely appropriate for a goblin. "I am most interested in being present for your blood adoption, as your godfather and I spent many hours in profitable discussion."

Harry smiled back, also being careful not to display any teeth. "I hope, sir, you can call me Harry, and once our business is completed, you might have the time to tell me more of my Godfather. However, as I know time is money and we have much to do, I will be honored if you would tell me what is required of me."

Ragnok nodded thoughtfully and then gestured towards the long table. "Would you all please seat yourselves and Senior Account Manager Hackblade will begin to explain all that your Godfather had planned for you."

Everyone managed to seat themselves and Harry introduced all of his companions to the Director who congratulated him profusely on his most sensible selection of more than one spouse, saying that he had never quite understood the human desire to mate with only one other. This, of course, left Harry somewhat embarrassed and amused the hell out of his Bonded and his Liegemen, yet in spite of the pleasantries, there was an odd, uncomfortable itch that Harry simply could not get rid of. Something was wrong and he knew it.

At Ragnok's direction, Hackblade placed a tiny box on the table, touched it with his finger and expanded it to the size of a Hogwarts student's trunk. Opening it, he lifted out several stacks of ledgers, a number of envelopes tied with different colored ribbons, several rolls of parchment, a pensieve, a small golden bowl, a dagger and a rack containing several very familiar crystal vials all containing blood, one slightly larger than the others.

Harry looked at all of these items then suddenly remembered something Sirius had said in his letter. "Excuse me, Hackblade, I don't mean to interrupt, but my godfather mentioned a healer named Aksaki, and suggested I would probably need her assistance, both with the ritual of adoption and something to do with some blocks on my magic."

Hackblade's lip curled slightly. "The High Shamaness Aksaki is not at the beck and call of humans. You have your own hospital, I suggest you seek out a human healer."

Harry frowned slightly, studying the tall goblin's face. "You don't like me," he said bluntly, "and I have no idea why."

Hackblade snorted. "You are a human. I manage your finances. What is there to like or dislike?"

Harry shook his head. "No, it's more than that. Something about dealing with me is making you either very uncomfortable or very angry and I want to know why." As he spoke, all of the others turned to look at Hackblade with varying degrees of concern or outright distrust on their faces.

"What is the problem, Hackblade?" Ragnok demanded, frowning fiercely. "The Potter account is one of our oldest and most prestigious, with the Black account of almost equal importance. Are these duties beyond your abilities? Should I have another manager take over one or both of these accounts?"

If looks could kill, Harry thought, Ragnok would have toppled out of his chair, dead as a doornail. From the corner of his eye, he caught a flicker of movement as Hackblade slid his hand into what appeared to be a pocket in his robe...and all of a sudden, all of the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stood up.

Without even thinking about it, he pushed his chair back from the edge of the table and got to his feet, giving himself room to move. The moment he did so, every one of his companions did likewise.

Without a thought, Harry placed himself directly between Ragnok and Hackblade, his wand drawn and pointed unwaveringly at the tall, thin goblin's face. "Please take your hand out of your robes slowly," he said in a toneless voice, his emerald eyes beginning to glow softly.

"Are you threatening me, human?" Hackblade demanded. "Here in our own halls? Is there no end to the arrogance of wizards?"

"It's not arrogance," Harry said calmly, "but simple self preservation. Both hands out in sight now!"

With a smirk worthy of any Malfoy, Hackblade did as ordered, a strange red orb clasped in his hand.

Behind him, Harry heard Ragnok mutter something in gobbledygook that sounded very rude, and the elder goblin stepped well clear, moving back towards his desk.

Harry watched Hackblade's eyes track the Director's movements and cleared his throat harshly, drawing the goblin's attention back to himself. "Don't even think about it," he said in a deadly quiet voice, the tip of his wand glowing a sullen crimson.

All of his loved ones had moved well away from the table, flinging the chairs towards the walls to ensure clear movement. Shack and Remus were moving towards the main doors while the twins took up position behind Harry, blocking Hackblade's view of the Director. Bill and Charlie slowly advanced towards the goblin, preparatory to disarming him and ensuring that whatever the sphere was, he wouldn't get to use it.

From behind him, Harry heard the sound of Ragnok opening several draws in his desk before the Director spoke. "So, Hackblade, it seems you have decided that now is the time for your little coup. What has prompted you to advance the timing to such a degree?"

Harry, looking directly at Hackblade, saw a fleeting look of shock and a touch of fear cross the goblin's face before he snarled viciously. "How did you know, you human-loving freak?" He demanded.

Ragnok chuckled. "I did not become Chief of Clan Chiefs or Director by being a fool, Hackblade. I have known of your plot for quite some time, but was expecting it to be put into effect three days from now."

"That's when Sirius' Will is to be read," Hermione said, shocked, then looked embarrassed at her outburst.

"Well noted young lady," Ragnok agreed. "So much of what these fools are seeking to achieve depends on the Black Will. I believe it's your presence here today Harry, that has prompted the advancing of their plans."

"It certainly looks that way," Harry said, then looked back at Hackblade. "Put that on the table please Hackblade," he said, gesturing to the globe in the goblin's hand with his wand.

"What? You mean this?" The goblin said, and before anyone could stop him, he clenched his fist, breaking the orb. Immediately, with a loud hissing noise, a large cloud of sickly yellow-red vapor expanded outwards.

"GAS!" Bill yelled, frantically waving his wand, Remus leaping to his side and echoing his movements. The two wizards managed to trap the cloud in a modified Bubblehead charm, much used by curse breakers who were familiar with such defenses in tombs.

The gas had barely expanded to a cloud as big as Hackblade's own head before it was trapped and rendered harmless. The only one caught in it was Hackblade himself, and the effects were immediate and gruesome.

All the skin on his head began to bubble like molten wax and run down onto his clothes, followed by the muscles and bone until his head was nothing more than a puddle on the floor. Throughout all of this, he made not a sound.

"Well, _that_ was unattractive," Shack muttered, as Bill lowered his wand and went to Hermione who was quietly vomiting off to one side.

Harry glanced over his shoulder at the Director. "What should we expect ne…" he began, then without warning, the office doors they had entered through flashed with a brilliant light and collapsed in a shower of liquid metal. Beyond the opening was a seething mass of goblin warriors, far more than the twenty that had been there when they had entered.

Harry took one look and started bellowing orders.

In a matter of seconds, the long table was on its side acting as a barricade across the room, the director's desk likewise, forming a secondary barrier where Fred and George were posted to help defend Ragnok directly.

As the first of the bellowing goblin warriors leaped over the cooling molten metal and charged into the office, Remus bellowed "No time for niceties, lethal force!"

I

t was in fact Luna who struck the first blow, transfiguring the lead warrior's chest armor into something that would barely have fitted a house elf, crushing his chest to paste in the process. The two warriors directly behind him tripped over his corpse and barely avoided the severing charms cast by Neville and Hermione, but two other Goblin warriors directly behind them were not so lucky and failed their dexterity rolls.

Within seconds the air was full of spears and other flying missiles that Bill and Charlie concentrated on transfiguring into flowers and other harmless things, leaving Remus, Shack and Harry to attack with a fusillade of well-placed "_Reducto"s_ and "_Bombarda"s_ while Luna, Neville and Hermione showed that the precision casting drills of the DA had been most effective as they used piercing charms with great, and lethal, effect. Meanwhile Tonks and the twins were using all sorts of transfigurations and a series of extremely nasty bone-breaking hexes to great effect, bringing down warrior after warrior, creating total mayhem and more obstacles for the troops behind to have to navigate.

Screams, shouts and curses filled the air, blood and other thicker things spraying everywhere. More goblins kept coming in and the fighting was getting even more brutal. The first table was almost completely destroyed, Neville had taken a javelin through the thigh, while Hermione had an arrow to the belly and was bleeding profusely.

Harry cast a wandless _Sonorous_ and bellowed for his people to fall back to the director's desk, that the twins had expanded up and out into a much larger barrier. Harry and Shack acted as rear guard while Bill and Charlie dragged the younger injured teens behind the barricade, Luna maintaining pressure on Hermione's wound, blood soaking her robes to the elbows. The werewolf literally had to pick Tonks up and throw her over the barricade as she refused to leave Harry's side.

"Go cub, _NOW_!" He snarled, shoving Harry towards the desk as Shack turned and bolted for cover.

Harry was atop the desk, about to drop to the other side into dubious safety, when he turned back to see Remus leap for the top, only to be struck down by three javelins that pinned him to the front of the desk.

"Go Harry!" he screamed, trying to shove the teen completely over the top of the desk, but Harry slipped out of his weakening grasp and leaped back down, to place himself between the sorely wounded werewolf and the oncoming mass of goblins.

Enraged, terrified, sick at heart that his friends had been hurt and that his beloved uncle could be dying, Harry screamed a wordless shout of rage. A sourceless wind began to swirl around him, lifting his robes and ruffling his hair. As the massed ranks of goblins paused, then charged _en masse_, Harry was certain he was about to die, but he had no intention of leaving his loved ones undefended.

The wind picked up to a shrieking gale that ripped weapons off the walls and from the hands of the dead, swirling them into a lethal vortex of blood and steel, circling Harry faster and faster until with a thunderous tearing noise, everything exploded outwards in a hailstorm of death and destruction.

Like massive pieces of shrapnel, the armor and weaponry mowed through the ranks of the goblins like hot knives through butter, shredding them all in an explosion of blood and flesh.

It was all over in seconds, and silence, except for the _'drip, drip, drip' _of blood from the ceiling and what remained of the furnishings, fell.

With a tiny sigh, Harry Potter collapsed bonelessly...and lay still.

A/N: OMG! Wasn't that like, totally breathtaking? Or at least I hope it was. Reviews make the world go 'round people, so I hope to see many of them soon. BIG LOVING HUGS,

shinobikarasu


	7. It's Just a Little Bit of Blood

_**Author's Note:**_ So like, wow, here we go again! I'm surprised with all the Christmas madness and the many things I've had to do before NYE, that I've found time to do this chappie at all!

Thanks to everyone who reviewed and enjoyed the last chapter. Sorry, but Dumbles didn't roll a double so he doesn't get out of jail just yet.

This fic has a "T" rating, and while there is the mention of both slash and multi relationships, they are not center stage, and won't be graphic. HP/LL/NT/FW/GrW, NL/CW, BW/HG, RL/KS, mention of RL/SB.

**PLEASE NOTE:** There is some violence, bloodshed and mention of rape (off screen) in this chapter.

I own nothing except the plot. JKRowling is _still_ the Big Cheese.

Now – on with the story! Oh, and _**PLEASE REVIEW!!**_

Chapter Seven: It's Just a Little Bit of Blood

Robes billowing, Severus Snape strode along the third floor hallway of Malfoy Manor, descended the stairs to his usual suite of rooms, and having disabled the various locking and protective charms, flung open the door and swept inside.

Swiftly, he moved to his potions cabinet and removed two pepper-up potions, a minor bone healer, a half-strength blood-replenishing draught and two anti-_Cruciatus_ potions. With these cradled protectively against his chest, he quickly returned upstairs, pausing only to re-lock and ward his door.

As he opened the door to Narcissa's suite, he could hear the blonde witch whimpering in pain and he rolled his eyes. If the stupid woman had just kept her mouth shut, she wouldn't be in this state. Whilst the Dark Lord had been amused by the slap fight between Bella and her sister, he had not been amused enough to withhold punishment.

Shaking his head to himself, Snape moved to the side of the bed and looked down at the normally aristocratic and aloof woman who was now disheveled in torn robes with the tracks of tears marking her normally beautiful face. He slipped one arm under her shoulders and lifted her up enough to feed her one of the anti-_Cruciatus _potions, holding her twitching spasming body tightly clamped against his chest so as to insure she drank it. Then he sat on the edge of the wide, canopied bed and waited for five minutes until the spasms eased, then handed her the blood-replenishing draught.

Voldemort tended to take a rather twisted pleasure in degrading his aristocratic pure-blood followers, and tonight's revel had been no different. If only Narcissa had not asked about Lucius, demanding to know just what the Dark Lord was going to do to retrieve his followers from Azkaban.

Snape had no doubt the prolonged exposure to the _Cruciatus_ had been demeaning enough, but not apparently for Voldemort, who had decreed (as Narcissa was clearly missing her husband) that he would provide for her needs - and had handed her over to face the ten new male recruits - including her own son.

Severus had no doubt the resulting display had been most educational for the three teenage girls who had also taken the mark that night. Of them, only Pansy Parkinson had not looked away or been physically ill as Narcissa was repeatedly 'punished'.

He had been most surprised when Draco had not baulked at participating in his mother's degradation. Voldemort too had actually seemed somewhat impressed. That had, however, not stopped him from personally _Crucio_-ing each and every one of the newly marked Death Eaters. He had seemed to take particular pleasure in torturing Draco, to the point where the boy had torn several rib cartilages screaming.

Snape saw that Narcissa had fallen asleep, and rose to his feet, silently leaving the room and heading towards his Godson's quarters. Whatever other care Narcissa would need, her house elves could provide, after all, it wasn't the first time. He wanted to get the rest of the potions down Draco's throat as quickly as possible, and after that, he was taking himself back to Hogwarts before either Malfoy could think of some other order to give him.

-]---

Rita "The Beetle" Skeeter had found a dead easy way into the home of Potter's muggle relatives. She'd simply snuck in through the back door when the horse-faced blonde woman had gone out to place a sack of garbage in a receptacle outside.

Now, perched on top of one of the kitchen cabinets, she was listening avidly as the woman and her grotesque husband discussed young Harry, thanking Merlin she'd had the foresight to put the new recording spell on herself. Instead of having to rely on just her memory, now there was a special quill back in her office at '_The Daily Prophet' _recording every single thing she heard, no matter where she was or in what form..

And oh, the things she was hearing! How Dumbledore had left the precious Boy Who Lived with Muggles who hated not just him with a passion but his parents too, who cared not in the slightest that the sainted James and Lily Potter were dead, who hated all magic users and considered them freaks.

She would've gasped if she could have when she heard they had actually been instructed to treat Harry badly and had been told to use whatever means short of extreme physical violence to make him weak, needy and obedient. She also heard how they had been richly paid for caring for him, large sums of money coming from the Potter estate, yet with specific instructions from Dumbledore for nothing to be spent on Harry himself. This was of particular interest, Skeeter thought, as she had no idea why the Potters would have named Dumbledore their Executor, or their son's Magical Guardian. Oh, the opportunities for further digging were just multiplying!

She heard things about a cupboard that she would never have believed if someone else had told her, about a child being starved, beaten and mistreated, locked up for days at a time. Every word gave her a warm and comforting feeling, for it would surely be the story of the decade, if not the century, and it would have _her_ name on the byline!

If she could have rubbed her hands together in glee, Rita would have.

The amount of dirt being dished up on his Supreme Mugwumpiness was fabulous! She had always thought him an obsolete old dingbat, but now she knew he was a cold-hearted, manipulative, ruthless son-of-a-witch, and she was going to take immense pleasure in revealing this, not just to the British wizarding public, but to the international magical community at large.

With this in mind, as the two Muggles lowered their voices to speak more privately, no doubt for fear their repulsive offspring in the other room might hear them, Rita decided to move down to the bench where she would have a far better chance of overhearing, and recording, every juicy tidbit.

The chunky little beetle with the square markings around its antenna flew clumsily down towards the area beside the stove where Petunia was busily preparing chicken breasts for pan frying.

As she did so, Rita passed a strange device on the wall which she had noticed squirted out some kind of potion every few minutes or so. As she flew past it, it sprayed her and she immediately felt as if she was choking.

Never a particularly good flier at the best of times, this threw off Rita's equilibrium so badly she entirely missed the bench and instead landed right on top of the piece of chicken Petunia was about to pound into a schnitzel with a meat mallet.

Petunia had really enjoyed being able to unload all of her venom and hatred of her abnormal relatives onto her ever-understanding and supportive Vernon. He was such a treasure! She ran the evening's menu past her mind's eye, planning on making his favorite mashed potatoes with chives and cheese, the buttered peas and honeyed carrots he loved and his favorite rich gravy to have with the chicken. With these thoughts, she began to carefully pound a new chicken breast to an even thinness.

It was then the ugliest, spikiest, most disgusting beetle she had ever seen crash-landed right onto the chicken she was preparing for her beloved Vernon's dinner.

Petunia shrieked and out of reflex flicked her hand at the beetle, sending it flying across the stove, barely avoiding a fatal plunge into the pot of boiling peas. Instead it bounced twice on the bench on the far side of the stove before banging into the wall and falling onto the bench, apparently dazed.

Petunia frantically began searching through the cupboard under the sink until she found the large tin of extra strength bug spray. She proceeded to spray the beetle with such enthusiasm, it and the bench beneath it were soon drenched with insecticide.

The beetle, proving to have more stamina than Petunia would ever have expected, staggered to its feet and began to weave drunkenly across the bench-top, leaving wet beetle footprints everywhere. Seeing it lurching closer to her, Petunia screamed again, dropped the bug spray and grabbed the nearest thing she could to get it away from her.

This proved to be the meat mallet.

With a demented gleam in her eyes, Petunia began to flail away at the beetle which somehow seemed to realize it was in mortal danger, for it ducked and weaved in a way that was almost human. However, the flyspray had clearly affected its reflexes and Petunia got in a lucky hit.

With a cry of triumph, Petunia brought the meat mallet smashing down and managed to crush the rear half of the beetle into beetle juice.

Then something truly terrible happened.

The beetle screamed.

Even as Petunia registered this, the front half of the beetle, trying desperately to drag itself across the bench, fell to the floor, still screaming in its tiny little beetle voice and before Petunia's horrified gaze abruptly expanded into a woman whose body from the waist down was mashed beyond recognition, and who was now bleeding profusely all over Petunia's pristine kitchen floor.

Vernon, hearing the ruckus, burst into the kitchen to see his wife clutching a bloody meat mallet and screeching shrilly at a hideously injured blonde woman lying on the floor screaming.

Vernon clutched his ample chest and fainted.

The collapse of her husband seemed to galvanize Petunia into action, and shrieking hysterically, she proceeded to beat the top of what had been a beetle into a paste similar to its lower half.

Sometime later, when Dudley went to the kitchen to get a snack, he was greeted by the sight of his father lying dead on the floor clutching his chest, his face blue, his mother curled up in a fetal ball covered in blood and crooning to a meat mallet she was stroking in a most disturbing way - and what appeared to be, at first glance, some kind of deflated blow-up doll....

It was Dudley's screams that eventually brought the neighbors to investigate.

-]---

Harry's return to consciousness came in a series of flashbacks and memories - and no matter how hard he tried, he could not speed up the process - in the end resigning himself to simply going with the flow….

_His first awareness was of something warm and soft pressing between his shoulder-blades and some soft substance brushing across his face. For a long moment he simply enjoyed the sense of warmth and comfort before finally opening his eyes._

"_AAAAAAHHHHHH!" _

"_SQUARK!"_

"

_MEROWR!"_

"_SQWEET!" _

_Harry shot bolt-upright, his heart hammering, and clutched at his chest. "Bloody hell! What are you lot trying to do, scare me to death?" _

_He stared accusingly at the phoenix, the kneazle and the snowy owl who had been, moments before, sitting vulture-like around his head, staring down into his face as he slept. _

_Feminine laughter drew his attention from the magical animals and he looked down to see Luna and Tonks lying beside him on either side and he abruptly realized that they had been the lovely, warm softnesses he had been enjoying. _

_Abruptly his mind cleared, his eyes widened and he looked frantically around. "Moony! Hermione! Neville!" He exclaimed even as Luna sat up and grasped his arm and Tonks, her hair flashing a brilliant cerulean blue, draped herself over his legs._

"_Harry, it's alright," The Metamorphmagus explained, "everyone is fine! You've been out to it for three days." _

_The three people he'd named rushed over to him, followed by his other loved ones, a grinning Ragnok and an elderly female goblin he didn't know. She was a couple of inches shorter than Ragnok, with dozens of tiny braids of white hair dotted randomly over her head and neck, her skin was an odd pale green and her eyes were pastel pink, which Harry realized meant she was an albino. She was wearing a long suede dress, with a beautiful cream colored dragonskin robe over it, and her feet were bare._

"_Hey cub." Moony said cheerfully. "It's about time you woke up. Things to do, Wills to be read, ordeals to be undergone." He grinned wolfishly at his nephew who was looking at him with a slightly gobsmacked expression._

"_Moony! You're alright!" Harry shouted, scrambling to his feet and throwing himself at the werewolf who barely managed to catch him. _

"_Of course I am." Remus said, "Thanks to Ragnok and the healing skills of Shamaness Aksaki."_

_Harry's eyes immediately went to the female goblin who grinned toothily at him. Releasing his uncle, Harry bowed politely to her. "Thank you for helping my friends. If there is ever anything I or House Potter can do for you, you only have to ask."_

_Aksaki studied him carefully, her pale beady eyes gleaming. "You are most polite for a human, and your offer is honorably made. I accept and will indeed call on you when the time is right." She then proceeded to ask him several questions about his health, peered into his eyes and cast half a dozen diagnostic spells wandlessly before pronouncing him completely well. _

_Once she was finished with him, Harry turned to Ragnok. "I see we are in a cavern but the last I remember was your office, Director. Can someone please tell me what happened? Oh! And Dobby. Where's Dobby?"_

_Bill and Charlie moved apart and beyond them, Harry glimpsed his little friend curled up on a blanket, sound asleep. _

"_He's fine," Bill said, "just exhausted. When you faced all the goblins attacking, Dobby was still invisible, but standing beside you. It was his elf magic that pulled the weapons off the walls and floor and spun them around you, but it was your raw power that hurled them. We think the two of you were able to join your magic that way because of just how close you are and how deep your master/elf bond is."_

"_The two of you saved the rest of us," Charlie added, and everyone nodded and made sounds of agreement._

"_Your actions certainly saved me," Ragnok said gravely "and I acknowledge the life debt I owe you, Lord-Elect Potter."_

_Harry was all set to deny his claim, but abruptly realized that could be interpreted as an insult and swallowed the hasty comment. Instead he bowed to Ragnok and just as Aksaki had said, he verbally accepted the debt. "I'm glad Dobby and I were able to protect you all, but I am so sorry for all of your people that I killed, Ragnok. I wish there had been some other way." He added, looking haunted and distressed._

_The elderly goblin walked up to him and gripped his right forearm. "They chose the path of dishonor and betrayal, Harry. If they had not died in the battle, I would have had no option but to order their execution anyway. If I had allowed them to live, I would have been seen as weak and those who are as yet undecided as to which faction they will support, would have joined my enemies, the ones who believe the Goblin Nation would be best served by supporting the Dark Lord. It is better they died fighting, for that at least brings them back a small part of their honor and protects their families from retribution and execution, according to our laws."_

_Harry's expression was downcast. "I feel terrible about their deaths, but I understand what you're saying. I just hope their families won't hate me too much."_

"_Hate you?" exclaimed Aksaki. "Not at all, young wizard. By killing them in battle, you have ensured they will Cross The River as warriors, misguided yes, but not cowardly. Their families rejoice in this and have firmly aligned themselves with Chief Ragnok. Because of your actions, many of the undecided clan chiefs have now thrown their support behind him, thus leaving our enemies much weakened and few in number."_

_Not only that," Kingsley interjected, "but Hedwig turned up with a message written in gobbledygook. How she got it we have no idea, but it was written by a goblin Ragnok had thought was loyal to him, that teller who fetched Hackblade."_

_The director nodded. "Indeed. Bonechewer was my fourth daughter's second husband's brother and was thus a trusted member of my family. Finding out he was a traitor was a great blessing, for I questioned him most vigorously and discovered several other traitors I have been able to have captured and questioned."_

_Harry looked at his owl who had a definitely smug expression on her face. He crouched down beside her so she could hop up easily onto his shoulder where he gently caressed her breast feathers. "Who's a very clever girl?" He said, and she nibbled on his ear affectionately. He glanced at Hermione and smiled, so glad to see her healed. "When did Crooks and Fawkes get here?" He asked her, as she scooped her Familiar up into her arms for a cuddle. _

"_They arrived directly after Hedwig flew in to the Director's office, literally as you collapsed. He must have known I was in trouble because having him here helped stabilize me and gave Aksaki more time to heal me." She explained, _

_Bill scratched under the kneazel's chin and grinned as he purred. "Just as soon as I can organize it, this furball is getting the best meal of his favorite foods," the ex-cursebreaker said, smiling at Hermione, who, Harry was very interested to note, blushed slightly._

_The twins, who'd managed to remain remarkably quiet up until this point, both laughed. "You are so whipped," Fred chortled, and whilst Bill glared back at him, his expression lacked any real heat. _

_Harry looked around at the cavern they were in, noting it was perhaps twice the size of the Gryffindor common room, and other than a few blankets, was devoid of any furnishings, although the walls and floor had been smoothly polished. He also noticed an odd shimmer in the air and on the walls, and turned to Ragnok. "Where exactly are we Director?" he asked. _

"_Please call me Ragnok, you have well earned the right," the elder goblin said, "and we are in one of our small time controlled chambers. With you collapsed and your friends needing healing, I ordered your removal here, where each day is but an hour of external time. We have been here three days, meaning three hours, which has allowed your friends to be healed and for you to recover your magical strength. I had no wish to involve too many others so I had only Aksaki join us, although for your ritual, we will need some other magical specialists. We will also need to move to a larger spell-sealed time chamber which has a specially protected doorway, that allows for outsiders to enter without disrupting the time control. Given that you are most likely to require rest and healing after the adoption is complete, I deemed it best to make these preparations first, even though I had not yet discussed them with you."_

_Harry shook his head and smiled at the goblin. "I trust you Ragnok, and whatever you and Lady Aksaki feel is necessary, I am more than happy to go along with." _

"_We also have discussed something else Harry," Remus said, "something the rest of us believe will be incredibly beneficial." He glanced around at everyone then looked back at Harry. "The other chamber Ragnok mentioned is their longest time controlled room available, where each day in the outside world is six months in the chamber. Ragnok has proposed that we bring in not just those individuals needed for the ritual, but also a number of teachers and trainers, so that once the adoption is over, we will have approximately 19 months of magical time where we can all study fighting, languages, dueling, magic and any other subject you need. It will also give you plenty of time to adjust to whatever changes the adoption may bring."_

_Harry considered for a moment, then looked up at his uncle then across to the two goblins and grinned. "That sounds brilliant." He exclaimed. "Will we be able to learn goblin style magic and fighting?"_

_Ragnok nodded. "I will be bringing in my best warriors who will train you and your friends as is only right given the great service you have done me personally and the Goblin Nation in general."_

"_And I will bring in those who are most gifted in our magics and other subjects," Aksaki added. "I for one look forward to seeing what else you and your friends are capable of."_

"_In relation to your adoption ceremony, I have taken the liberty of gathering several other blood offerings to add to the those your godfather and friends collected," Ragnok said. "Mr. Lupin, your bond mates, and your elf Dobby have all donated. If you agree, I would be honored to add my blood too."_

_Bill made a muffled exclamation of surprise and Harry saw the startled expressions on most of his other companions' faces. Clearly this was an unexpected and rare offer. "I would be honored Ragnok," he said, extending his hand to the Director who, rather than shaking it, grasped forearms with him in the goblin manner. _

"_On that note, let us wake your elf and leave this room. We have much to organize." The elder goblin said...._

Regaining consciousness was like swimming up from the depths of the Black Lake towards the sunlit surface, Harry thought, almost a reenactment of his experience in the second task of the Triwizard tournament, and it was as if shadow Grindylows were wrapped around his legs, forever drawing him downwards into darkness and oblivion, while he strained to reach the surface with every fiber of his being….

_It took Ragnok just on five hours to completely end the attempted coup and insure that his own loyal supporters were completely in control of all aspects and areas of Gringott's. _

_While he was taking care of the political and security issues, Aksaki was a whirlwind of activity, collecting a diverse group of goblin specialists, mounds of supplies and all the other necessities for what was going to be a year and a half of close quarters living, following a major magical ceremony. _

_The majority of Harry's companions were split between the two goblins. Remus, Shack, Bill and Hermione aiding Ragnok while Charlie, Neville, and Dobby did their utmost to aid the Shamaness. This left Harry, Luna, Tonks and the twins together, and they spent those hours in quiet_ _conversation, sharing their lives, their hopes and dreams, getting to know one-another not just as friends, but as those who would marry and would be with each other for the rest of their long lives. _

_It was a wonderful time and exactly what Harry needed to complete his recovery from the battle in Ragnok's office and the long held, lingering fears he was unworthy of love or companionship. _

_Those few hours finally saw the end of the Dursley's influence once and for all, and the emergence of a new, much more confident and peaceful Harry Potter, who knew without a shadow of a doubt he was loved and desired by the two men and two women who had pledged to unite their lives with his. And they were well on the way to loving each other just as certainly. _

_It had turned two A.M on the day of his birth when Remus came to get Harry and his four bonded. The werewolf had watched from a distance for some time how his cub and the others were interacting. It made his heart glad to see Harry so happy and he wished with all his heart that Sirius James and Lily could be there to see it too. Finally, with a shake of his head, Remus pulled himself together and approached the five young people. _

"_Harry, guys, we're ready! Ragnok has secured his powerbase and Aksaki has packed at least half of the entire contents of the goblin family tunnels so it's time for us to go."_

_Fred and George jumped to their feet and offered a hand each to the girls who in turn both grabbed Harry and everyone pulled each other to their feet. In silence they followed Remus as he led them over to the others who greeted them warmly, Hermione giving Harry one of her rib-cracking hugs. _

"_It is so good to see you so happy," she whispered, and felt him nod his head where his face was buried in her bushy hair. _

"_I am happy Hermione, I really am." And the siblings of choice hugged each other and smiled at each other, before Harry pulled away and returned to stand with his girls and the twins. At that moment Ragnok and Aksaki both returned and if the grins were anything to go by, they were obviously satisfied with all that they had achieved. _

"_Our timing is excellent," Aksaki declared as she bustled up and she looked at Harry piercingly. "We are now into your actual day of birth, and it will be most propitious to hold your adoption ceremony at the actual hour of your birth which is, I believe, in one and a half hours time. Let us all adjourn to the time controlled chamber and get started." _

_With that, she and Ragnok led the way, everyone else following, to the carts normally used to reach the underground vaults. After a hair-raising journey through the bowels of Gringott's, they pulled up at a landing in front of a pair of giant stone doors. _

_There were a number of goblins of both genders waiting and a mound of equipment and boxes. Ragnok placed his hands on the doors and they opened, revealing a large antechamber with another door set in the opposite wall. Everyone and all the equipment barely fitted in the room, and Ragnok sealed the doors behind them before opening the ones ahead. _

_Harry realized the system was like an airlock, as the Director opened the inner doors, and the same strange same shimmering Harry had noticed before in the other time chamber filled the air around them. The party proceeded forward into the next room, where Harry and the rest of the humans stumbled on the threshold and gazed around in awe. _

"_Wow!" Tonks exclaimed, her hair cycling through several shades of pink and neon blue._

"_Merlin, it's huge!" Charlie added, gazing around. "You could fly a dragon in here!"_

"_Trust you to think of that," Neville said with a grin, and Charlie went to cuff him over the head, but the heir of Longbottom ducked, chuckling. _

_Harry was amazed by the sheer size of the chamber. It was at least four times the size of the Great Hall at Hogwarts, the ceiling so high above it was lost in shadows. The central area of the floor was smooth white sand, and what he could see of the walls had been polished to a mirror shine and intricate bands of runes and other magical writing had been inlaid into them in precious metals and gems. _

_As the party moved further into the echoing cavern, they came to an area free of sand where the bedrock had been leveled and polished, and a massive permanent magical casting circle of pure gold had been inlaid into the rock. _

_This was clearly Aksaki's territory, for it was she who began ordering everyone around her and in a matter of minutes, all gear that had been stacked out of the way, a long stone bench had been conjured on which was placed a superb bowl made of gold and silver, a wickedly sharp, clearly ancient, dagger of black stone set in a leather sheath, and all the blood-filled needles. Next to the bowl was a stone pensieve with a copper lid and a range of odd looking tools that Harry had never seen before. _

_All the goblins but two moved to the area where all the equipment had been placed and one of their number created a magical barrier between them and the rest of the party. Aksaki, Ragnok and the two remaining goblins joined Harry and his friends._

"_Harry, may I introduce Runespitter and Bloodink, who are both Shamans in their own right, but more importantly for you, they are magical tattooists." Aksaki said. "We goblins have long had a history of decorating our bodies with magical symbols and these two are the masters of that skill. With your permission, they will perform the necessary markings to secure your magical adoption into the House of Black."_

_Harry nodded politely to the two goblins who returned the gesture before he turned back to Remus, an expression of confusion on his face. "Tattoos?" he queried. "You actually _want _me to get tattoos?" He grinned. "I _must_ go and show them to Aunt Petunia." _

_Remus snorted. "Yes, Petunia would _love_ them, I'm sure," he agreed. "Normally Harry, a blood adoption involves only three drops of blood from the adopter that is incorporated into a tiny amount of magical ink, which is used to mark the adoptee with the House crest of the family into which they are being adopted. This mark is normally placed just over the heart on the left hand side of the chest. In your case, because of the modified ritual that Sirius wanted, that incorporates magic designed by Rowena Ravenclaw herself, it's going to be a little more complicated."_

_He gestured towards the table. "As you can see, there is a much larger volume of blood and this means there will be an equally greater volume of ink. The ritual requires that all the blood and ink be used so we have no option but to tattoo you more extensively than just the crest of the House of Black. Some of the blood will be used to create bands of runes, and other magical sigils, all of which will help you in terms of strength, knowledge, healing and magic, while the rest will have to be used in images that have a deep significance for you. What images would you like? And please remember they must be significant to you. No skulls or dripping daggers, no 'I Love Molly Weasley'" Almost all the entire group made gagging noises, and Remus grinned wolfishly. "So what's it to be, cub? And think big, there's going to be lots of ink."_

_Harry was just about to say something when a burst of trilling phoenix song filled the chamber and a fireball erupted in midair that resolved into Fawkes, who was clutching onto Hedwig with one foot and Crookshanks with the other. He released them with Crooks landing sure-footedly before running to his mistress, who scooped him up and cooed over him, while Hedwig immediately flew to Harry, broadcasting with great smugness that she had found him. _

_Meanwhile, Fawkes circled the room singing a most beautiful melody that uplifted the hearts of all who heard it. Then he flew to the table and to everyone's amazement, cried seven tears into the golden bowl then pecked his own breast until blood ran and dripped seven drops on top of the tears. The small wound he made on himself healed immediately and he then flew to perch on Shack's broad shoulder so that he could look at Harry with eyes that were far to wise for a mere bird. _

_Aksaki snapped her sagging mouth shut, and managed to control her shock before turning to Harry. "Never in my 167 years as a Shamaness have I _ever_ seen a phoenix gift it's blood to anyone. That such a magical ingredient has been added, I believe ensures the success of this undertaking. Who are you, Harry Potter, that a phoenix would choose to bleed for you?" She shook her head in wonder. _

_Harry stared at her gobsmacked, then looked at the phoenix. "I don't know what to say Fawkes, but thank you." He turned back to the goblins and smiled. "I've decided what I want," he said. "My father was a stag Animagus, so I would like an image of a stag, nd for my mother, a doe. I also want a werewolf for Moony, and in honor of my soon-to-be-father, a black grim-like dog." _

_He glanced at Fawkes again, then back at the goblins. "Since it seems I am blessed by a phoenix, I would also like an image of one, maybe on my back, and somewhere I would like an image of Hedwig." He glanced around at his friends and loved ones. "Anyone else got any ideas?" _

"_You should have the Potter crest," Hermione suggested, and Harry nodded in agreement, then noticed Dobby bouncing from foot to foot. _

"_What do you think Dobby? What should I add to my tattoos?" _

_The house elf was clearly startled by his masters question, but when Harry crouched down in front of him, he answered. "I is thinking you should have the nasty big snake, Master Harry Potter Sir. You was only twelve when you killed it. I is thinking that is a most important time when you had to change from little wizard to warrior." _

_Harry nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face, before standing up and turning to the goblins to explain. "When I was twelve, I had to kill a sixty foot long, thousand year old basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets under Hogwarts, using the sword of Godric Gryffindor. Dobby's right, that _was_ a turning point for me." _

_The two goblins glanced at each other then Runespitter bowed to Harry. "My brother and I would be honored to record such an event, for that was indeed the act of a warrior." _

_Bloodink spoke up. "There will be enough material for one more image, what would you choose for that?" _

_Harry glanced back at his family, who all looked at each other, then literally spoke as one. "The Hungarian Horntail," they all chorused, then burst out laughing. Harry explained to the two goblins the significance of that particular breed of dragon, and they agreed that would make a fine final image. _

_With that, the two tattooists headed for the table, obviously to prepare themselves. Ragnok took charge of all Harry's companions, spreading them out evenly around the circle inlaid in the floor, while Aksaki took Harry over towards the far wall. Harry could smell the faintest hint of sulfur in the air, and saw there was a bath-sized cleft in the cavern floor which contained bubbling water. _

"_This," Aksaki said, pointing, "is a natural mineral spring. Please undress and immerse yourself completely in the water. It is hot, but not painfully so, but do be prepared as it will remove all hair on your body so the tattooists can have access to all of your skin." Harry looked at her a trifle cock-eyed, but managed to overcome his embarrassment and nerves and did as she asked. _

_The sensation of all his hair dissolving in the water was completely bizarre and Harry had to resist the urge to frantically scratch himself all over. He then had the dubious pleasure of walking stark naked, in fact more naked than since he was born, back to the circle and his family and loved ones - sadly none of whom could resist the urge to snicker, point and laugh. _

"_So glad I amuse you all," he commented snarkily, "Do you mind?" _

"_Oh we don't mind at all," Fred said. _

"_Wow, Harry," Neville added, "you've got such a cute head when it's bald." _

_Tonks snickered. "And not just the head on your shoulders either." This of course, made everyone laugh again. _

_Aksaki directed Harry to stand in the center of the circle and she moved to fill the last empty spot on the circumference, directly opposite Ragnok. _

_Over at the table, Runespitter lifted up the golden bowl and intoned a long incantation in High Gobbledygook, gesturing with the bowl in the four cardinal directions before turning to his brother. Together, the two Shaman sang for several minutes, their oddly melodic voices echoing strangely, as if they were much further away than they actually were. _

_Runespitter then swapped to English, naming each of those who had donated blood, as, in turn, Bloodink added the contents of each crystal needle to the bowl, starting with Sirius' own. _

"_Behold the gift of Lord Sirius Orion Black, Godfather, Canine Animagus and hereditary Grim-lord, who, through this blood, will adopt Harry James Potter as his son and heir, according to Blood, Law and Magic." The goblin intoned, as his brother tipped the contents of the needle into the bowl. _

_Bloodink raised the next needle and Runespitter said, "the gift of Rubeus Hagrid, first magical friend, half giant and Master of Beasts, both Magical and mundane." Bloodink added it, then raised the next. _

"_The gift of Minerva McGonagall, Cat Animagus, Mentor and Teacher." _

"_The gift of Firenze, Centaur sage, warrior and Master of Earth."_

"_The gift of Remus Lupin, Guardian, Mentor, Teacher, Warrior, Liegeman, Pack-mate and Werewolf."_

"_The gift of Luna Lovegood, unawakened Seer, beloved and Bonded Mate and Liegeman." _

"_The gift of Nymphadora Tonks, Metamorphmagus, beloved and Bonded Mate and Liegeman." _

"_The gifts of Fredric and George Weasley, beloved and Bonded Mates, Twins, Telepaths and Liegemen."_

"_The gift of Squidly, sentient cephalopod, Guardian of Hogwarts, Master of Water."_

"_The gift of Charles Weasley, Dragon Friend, Master of Magical Beasts, Liegeman."_

"_The gift of Norbert, Norwegian Ridgeback Dragon, representative of the Dragon Council, Master of Air."_

"_The gift of Dobby, House Elf, Symbiont and Liegeman."_

"_The gift of Ragnok, Chief of the Goblin Nation, Chief of Clan Chiefs, Director of Gringott's". _

"_The gifts of Fawkes the Phoenix, Master of Fire and of Healing."_

_As Bloodink finished adding the blood, Runespitter again spoke in High Gobbledygook, before returning to English. "Let these gifts of the essence of life be blessed by the Highest Powers and by Magic Herself, and may they bless Harry James Potter and seal him into the Ancient and Noble House of Black." _

_With that, Bloodink withdrew a flask from within his robes and poured the contents into the bowl with the blood, then picked up the strange pieces of equipment and the knife, and he and his brother advanced towards Harry. _

_Runespitter held out the bowl and Harry could see it was one third full of the strangest looking liquid. Black and red swirled together and it was full of sparkling motes of different colored light and the air above the bowl shimmered with magic. _

"_To bind this to your use, you must add your blood," Bloodink explained, and Harry nodded, holding out his arm. Using the stone blade, Bloodink cut a symbol into the soft flesh of Harry's forearm and allowed twenty two drops of blood to fall into the bowl, the contents of which began to pulse with gold and silver light. He then laid the flat of the blade against the wound and a flash of heat sealed it closed, making Harry hiss with the sharp pain. _

_Bloodink then handed his brother one of the odd devices while he took the other. They plunged them into the bowl, and Harry watched as they absorbed all the blood and ink mixture. _

_Runespitter then handed the bowl to Aksaki with a bow and turned back to the young wizard. "Please extend your arms," he said, "and prepare yourself, there will be some discomfort." _

_Harry nodded and gritted his teeth, as the two brothers went to work, the strange devices proving to be tattooing tools.... _

Harry trembled, the memory of pain still close and cloying. At first, it had just been a warmth in his skin, a prickling itch, as the brother Shamans moved faster and faster around him until they were very nearly blurred. The actual placing of the tattoos across his chest and belly, back, thighs, buttocks, down his arms and even one that snaked up and around his bald head didn't hurt so much as irritate.

It was as they finished that the pain truly had begun.

Harry moaned and thrashed, the memory of that blazing agony still too real and too close. The _Cruciatus_ curse only tortured the nervous system, which was bad enough, but as the Shamans had finished the tattooing and cried out something together in High Gobbledygook, all the images they had placed on his body flared into brilliant life and it was as if he was torn apart with knives of unbearable pain.

Every system in his body had been agonizingly ruptured and ripped apart - his joints, his bones, his flesh, his nerves and blood vessels, each and every system had been savagely deconstructed, stretched, enlarged and rebuilt. It was like _Cruciatus_ upon _Cruciatus_ upon _Cruciatus_.

Harry had shrieked until his throat was full of blood and he could no longer make a sound. Never again would the word '_Crucio'_ fill him with any fear, for he had survived something so beyond that, there was little comparison.

He had been certain he would go insane from the pain, but it was then he'd felt the touch of two minds on his, and suddenly the reason Fawkes and the other magical animals had come made sense, for it was Fawkes and his own Hedwig who'd anchored him, who'd kept him sane, who'd kept back the gibbering horror of madness and allowed him to cling to their warmth and love as the agony racked his body. Without them, Harry knew in that moment, he would have died….

_He was floating, the pain still thrumming in every nerve and sinew, in his bones and in his blood. All around him was a pulsating white nothingness that slowly resolved into a meadow surrounded by virgin forest, with vistas of far mountains, while some twenty yards ahead of him, a river cut through the lush grass and nodding wild flowers. The air was crisp and clean, the sun warm against his skin - it was perhaps the most beautiful place he had ever seen. _

_As he looked around he was shocked to see two people coming towards him on the far side of the river, two people he had not seen since their shadowy, smoky images had come from Voldemort's wand in a graveyard in Little Hangleton two years earlier. _

_There, stepping down into the water, were James and Lily Potter. _

_With a great cry that was an equal blend of joy and sorrow, Harry raced to meet them, the three of them coming together in the center of the river, all of them weeping and babbling and hugging. There was his father, hazel-eyed, running his fingers through his black, untidy hair in a characteristic gesture Harry knew from watching James do it over and over in some of the photos he had, grinning down at him. And his mum, her fiery hair lifting in the breeze, tears in her emerald eyes, the source of his own, her smile just for him._

"_Is this real?" Harry breathed. "Am I dead?" _

_Lily cupped his face in her hands and kissed his forehead. "You can be either sweetie. Whichever you choose," she said. "If you decide to come with us, you will die, or if you choose to go back, you will live."_

"_We're here to help you either way, son," James added, hugging both of them._

"_Mum, Dad, why am I here? What's happening?"_

_His parents shared a look then James sighed. "Sirius' intentions and planning were good," he said, "but what he didn't realize was that the adoption ritual would destroy the blocks on your magic, but in an uncontrolled manner."_

_Lily nodded. "The combination of your magic plus the magic in the blood plus the magic of the ceremony itself was too much for you, and it's forced your spirit from your body. We are at the border of life and death, this is where, as the goblins say, you can 'Cross The River'. But it's not truly your time, sweetie."_

_Harry nodded. "If this had happened three months ago, I doubt I would have hesitated to go with you. But Mum, Dad, I have to go back."_

_His parents nodded and hugged him. "We know," James whispered. "We would expect nothing less from you. We know Moony is looking out for you and your mum and I are immensely pleased with the choices you made in your Bonded. We also know you have to go back to finish what was started with Voldemort."_

"_We have much to tell you, and little time," Lily added. "But first..." She reached out and touched the scar on Harry's forehead, James placing his hand over hers. Harry felt a sharp dragging pain and then with an almost audible '_pop_', his parents pulled something from within his scar....and as one, turned and hurled it to the far bank of the river. _

_What landed there was eerily reminiscent of the mutant baby Harry had seen Voldemort to be before his resurrection in the graveyard. It lay in the grass shrieking and whimpering before slowly dissolving into green smoke that vanished on the breeze. His father looked at Harry, his face incredibly serious. _

"_That, son, was a piece of Voldemort's soul. When the curse rebounded on him, it accidentally allowed that _thing _to lodge itself in the wound. It's called a Horcrux. Voldemort has created a number of these, as soul anchors. As long as there is one in the world, he cannot be killed. He can be cast out into the form he had after our deaths, but he cannot be destroyed."_

"_To truly destroy him," Lily added, "you must find his Horcruxes and destroy them first."_

_Harry stared at his parents, horrified and despondent. But then something occurred to him. "The diary!" he exclaimed. "The diary was one of the Horcruxes, wasn't it?"_

_His parents nodded and smiled. "Indeed," James said. "and there are now five left. Once they are gone, Voldemort will be merely Tom Marvolo Riddle, a mortal wizard, and you will be able to kill him." _

"_Before you even ask," Lily interjected as Harry's eyes lit up and he began to speak, "we can't tell you what or where the other Horcruxes are. There is a...well, a 'balance' I guess you could call it, between Light and Shadow, Good and Evil and so on. This was skewed a little in your favor, so your father and I had to choose the most important thing you needed to know. There are many others, but other methods of informing you will be found. We can't tell you more, as that would cause too great an imbalance, and we are not permitted to do that. We can, however, give you a gift. Both your father and I were powerful in magic, and the circumstances of our deaths were so unjust we could have returned as ghosts, but rather, we chose to keep what was left of our magical cores intact to give them to you now."_

_James nodded. "As I said, Sirius' heart was in the right place, he just didn't know about your blocks. The ritual has, for all intents and purposes, killed you. There is too much magic in you for your core to contain it. However, your mother and I can give you what is left of our cores, which should just about double your capacity and will insure that, on your return, you will survive. However," and he paused here for a moment to glance at his wife before turning back to his son, "there is a price to pay."_

_Harry studied their faces for a long moment. "Okay. What is it." _

_Lily took one of his hands in hers. "It means my love, that your father and I will have to fully pass over, meaning there will be no more times like this, or like how we came to your aid in the graveyard, you will only see us again when it is truly your time to join us."_

_His Father smiled at him and tousled his hair, which in this place, seemed to have grown back. "Remember how you saw us in the Mirror of Erised?" He asked, and Harry nodded. "Well," James continued, "were you to look in it now, you wouldn't see us, but rather yourself and your Bonded either at your wedding or at the birth of your children, for those will be the deepest abiding wishes of your heart. Your mother and I will be where we should be, in the past, in your memories and in your heart...but not as a present day obsession."_

_Lily nodded in agreement with her husband. "We love you more than we can put into words Harry," she said, "but it's time for you to move on with your life. While we won't be as close to you as we have been, we'll always watch over you and love you."_

"_I know," Harry said somberly, then smiled. "I have a Mum and Dad who love me." And he hugged them both fiercely. As he did so, he felt a tingling wave of magic wash over him from each of him, and then they released each other._

"_There are two other things we can, and must tell you," James said, "and they will be useful, so don't squander the information, okay?" _

_Harry nodded. "I'll be careful."_

_James nodded. "Remember, Wormtail owes you a Life Debt. When he acted against you in the graveyard, he was very nearly forsworn. He feels the weight of it, the drag on his soul and magic, and it frightens him. He knows, sooner or later, he will have to pay you back or die."_

"_You must choose the right time, and the right demand," Lily added. ""Don't be frivolous, or cruel or act out of simplistic revenge."_

"_There are others who owe you similar debts – Ginevra Weasley, and, as she was a minor child at the time, by extension her parents, and Arthur Weasley also owes you a personal one...but the one I really want to talk about is Severus Snape's."_

"_I hate him!" Harry snarled._

"_And we understand why, sweetie," Lily assured him. "His is a complicated situation. He was once, a long time ago, my friend. It was around his fourth year at Hogwarts that he began to turn genuinely Dark. Before that he wasn't particularly likable, but he wasn't actually evil."_

"_The Marauders' bullying of him contributed to his choice to follow Malfoy senior," James added. "Mind you, he was as big a bully as we were, of many other, younger students, which we didn't do. Still, we weren't blameless, not by a long shot."_

"_He told Voldemort the Prophesy," Harry said hotly. "It was him who caused your deaths! Why didn't his Life Debt to you, Dad, kill him then?"_

"_Because he didn't specifically send Voldemort to kill us. Snake Face could've chosen to go to the Longbottoms, but chose us of his own free will. Though Snape must've just about soiled himself when Tommie-boy _did_ go off to kill us!"_

"_The point to all this," Lily interjected, "is that he still owes you the Debt, and has severely compounded it by his treatment of you, especially those 'Occlumency lessons' he hurt you with."_

"_Again, tempting though it is to humiliate, injure or even kill him with it – don't act rashly, Harry!" James added. "I'd love to see him in Hell, but you might need him one day. Keep that in mind, okay?"_

_Harry's expression was decidedly mutinous, but he nodded. "Yeah, you're both right. I'll make sure to discuss it with everyone before I do anything. I promise."_

_Lily hugged him. "That's all we ask, honey." She paused, and Harry looked up at her, shocked to see her crying...and more shocked to see her becoming opaque, like a ghost._

"_MUM!"_

_She shook her head. "Our time is up, sweetie, we have to go. We love you...so, so much! Never forget that!"_

"_MUM! DAD! NO! Please, don't go!" Harry cried desperately. "I'm not ready! I need more time!"_

"_There isn't any, son. We've done what we were sent to do." James' voice seemed to echo from far away, his form wavering, as he and Lily drifted away from Harry's empty, grasping hands._

"_You might want to go and stop your friend from making an irrevocable mistake" Lily added, pointing upriver. _

_Harry turned his head to see Ragnok approaching the river's edge and started towards him, before turning back to his now almost invisible parents, tears streaking his face. "Why didn't Sirius come to say goodbye?" He shouted...and as faint as a sigh, his father's voice floated back to him for the last time._

"Why would he? He's not here...."

_Harry stood in the rushing water, tears still streaming down his face, but the terrible wound to his heart that had been their loss was healed. He retreated back to his side of the river, completely befuddled. Sirius wasn't there? Was there some other place he'd go when he was dead? Or… was he actually dead at all? _

_Hearing splashing sounds from upriver, Harry ruthlessly squashed down his thoughts about his Godfather, or, more accurately, his new father, and instead ran along the river bank to reach Ragnok just before he crossed the halfway point of the river…_

With a final upward lunge, and a mad mental scrabble, Harry finally broke free of unconsciousness and surged back into the here and now.

He bitterly regretted doing so almost immediately.

The pain was ghastly. His whole body felt completely bizarre as if he had put on clothes made for someone else. Nothing seemed to fit. Everything hurt. He groaned as he tried to lift his head to look around the chamber.

The sight that met his eyes literally drove the thoughts of pain, memories of his parents and questions about Sirius right out of his head. Bodies lay everywhere. Blood was splashed across the white sands and the golden ceremonial ring had melted into rivulets of cooling metal.

"No," Harry whispered. "No. Not again."

Directly ahead of him, some thirty feet away lay Ragnok. It appeared he had been flung brutally against the stone table, and he lay on the ground like a broken doll. With immense effort, Harry dragged himself towards the downed goblin, his memory of him trying to Cross The River clear in his mind. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, Ragnok was close to dying.

The journey across that thirty yards seemed to take forever, and many times Harry was unsure if he would actually make it, but at last, panting with pain, he lay beside the goblin.

Up close, Ragnok's injuries were devastating. Several ribs had pierced outward through his clothes, a huge spike of bone protruded from just below his right hip, and the entire right hand side of his skull had been crushed.

Harry was frantic, he didn't know what to do! He began to weep for his friend and his own helplessness, then noticed the tears falling from his eyes were pearly white, like a phoenix's.

Could it be?

Without another thought, he smeared his fingers over his wet face and stroked them over some of the lacerations on Ragnok's face, watching in amazement as the wounds healed.

In spite of his pain, a sense of triumph filled his heart, and with great care, he allowed his tears to fall on the terrible wounds on Ragnok's side, watching in amazement as the ribs retracted into place and the skin healed over them. He then moved to the compound-fractured thigh and allowed his tears to fall there. Again, he was amazed as the ugly broken bone pulled back into place with an audible click, the ravaged tissues knitting seamlessly without a scar.

Harry shuffled himself around until he could carefully lift Ragnok's seriously damaged head, and he paused there for a moment, considering what to do next.

If his tears were magical and capable of such acts of healing, should he not be capable of them? Why should only the fluids from his eyes have such magical abilities? With that in mind, Harry carefully laid his right hand over the deep depression in Ragnok's skull, and looked within himself for the source of the healing energy.

It was as if he found Phoenix song within himself, and abruptly realized that Fawkes' gift had had far more significance than anyone had realized. The phoenix's freely given tears had helped keep Harry's body alive while his spirit had communed with his parents, so that he could be gifted with their magical cores, the only way he could survive long term. But the phoenix's blood had, in fact, made him part phoenix, and he could feel within himself, within his expanded magical core, a golden shimmering place that held the healing powers of the phoenix.

He reached into this and pulled it up from within himself, along his arms and his into his hands, which flashed gold and radiated a burning heat. With great care, he directed the warmth and light to soak into the goblin's damaged skull, into the torn membranes, broken blood vessels and seriously crushed brain beneath, and began to smooth away those imperfections, balancing the blood and fluids, healing the torn arteries, smoothing shut the protective membranes and lastly, pushing back out into place and healing the bones of his skull.

He then moved his glowing hands to Ragnok's chest and willed him to awaken.

It was if he struck the goblin with a bolt of electricity. Ragnok jerked and his body bowed, then he took a massive breath and practically shrieked as he shot upright, his eyes opening to stare at Harry in total amazement. The exhausted teen managed to only smile at him, then collapsed face-first on the sand, unmoving.

-]---

Ragnok had been drifting in darkness. He had the vaguest memory of some beautiful meadow and the oddest sense that he had been at the point of death, but had been turned away. Not in anger, but for a purpose.

Now he felt both the most amazing sensation of love, compassion and warmth and pain, terrible pain, in his chest and leg, and an echo of emptiness in his head he instinctively knew was genuinely life threatening, more so than the areas that hurt.

He felt the warmth seeping into his chest and the truly bizarre sensation of his ribs moving and crunching back together, then the warmth moved to his hip and thigh, which were a raging maelstrom of pain and agony. He then experienced the exceptionally unpleasant feeling of his own bones grinding and shifting inside his flesh, which ran like hot wax to cover and heal the defect.

The warmth then shifted to his head, and it was as if Ragnok was floating outside his body, watching as the most beautiful being he had ever seen healed his shattered skull.

There was, he knew, a human word for such beings. Avatars? No. That wasn't quite right. He searched his mind for several moments then… ah! Angels! That was the word. He was being healed by an Angel!

From his peculiar perspective, external to his own body, he saw what appeared to be a man, yet was far too beautiful to be human. He was incredibly tall, with knee-length silken tresses of inky black, shot through with sparkling threads of crimson, gold and silver. His face was of such perfection it would make poets weep, with huge eyes, slit-pupilled like a dragon's, triple-ringed irises - liquid emerald around the pupil, then a band of stormy gray and finally a circle of pure molten gold.

The Angel had pointed ears, not unlike Ragnok's own, although more refined, skin in a most unusual shade of dusky gold, rather like a Centaur's, and when the Angel smiled, he saw a true predator's fangs, shaped like a dragon's teeth, yet in size as delicate and dainty as a cat's.

The huge hands that cradled his head so gently, and that pulsed with the golden healing light and heat, were tipped with claws to make any goblin or dragon proud, yet never once did they pierce his flesh, but it wasn't any of these things that let him know this being was not human.

It was his wings.

Curved in a huge double-bow behind the Angel's head, their feathered tips brushing the ground to either side of him as he half-lay, half crouched beside Ragnok's body, they were seemingly made of fire, and as the Angel finished healing him, he spread his wings a trifle, and they trembled, as if he were exhausted.

Their beauty was breath-taking, and it seemed to Ragnok that they did indeed flame, as magic danced among pinions that glowed with all the colors of forge and hearth. It was the most beautiful sight Ragnok had ever seen.

It was at that moment the Angel lay his hands upon Ragnok's chest and a rippling bolt of magic energy jolted the goblin so fiercely it forced his soul back into his body, and with a shrieking gasp, he sat bolt upright and turned to look at his Saviour.

Abruptly, he realized that this being, this creature of light and fire, was none other than Harry James Potter-Black, who smiled at him...and collapsed....


	8. The Pursuit of Happiness

**Chapter Eight: In Pursuit Of Happiness.**

A/N: ZOMG! I am _so _sorry I haven't updated in ages! I have been busy, sick, tired, busy, tired, busy…but now I have had some quiet time, I decided I better get back to it. Not to mention, my Muse is back from Cancun, with a great tan and several new ideas.

Welcome all our newcomers, I am so glad you love my story. Here is a brand-spanking new chapter for your entertainment.

This story has Slash and Multi pairings mentioned, but not in elaborate detail. HP/LL/NT/GW/FW, CW/NL, BW/HG, RL/KS, RL/SB.

The Potterverse is owned by JKRowling, not me. I'm just making origami out of it.

Albus Dumbledore was not happy.

His experience of Muggles, up to the present, had always been with him in control and in charge. This had changed and so the last thirty-six hours had been some of the most painful, degrading and offensive of his entire life.

After his breezy trip in the rear of the police van, he had been literally carried through the emergency department of a Muggle hospital, directly to the psychiatric unit. There, he had been subjected to a most intrusive medical examination, and, when he had quite rightly objected, a smiling young woman had had the effrontery to jab a large metal spike into his buttock! She had then administered some sort of foul Muggle potion that had hurt and had left him dizzy, helpless and disorientated.

Whilst in this state, two large young men had proceeded to vigorously bathe him, and had dared to not only shave off his beard but cut his hair down to nothing more than stubble, before tying him hand and foot to a bed, and placing some kind of rubber sleeve around his privates connected to a bag by the bed, so that he should not soil himself.

He was mortified.

Now, the next morning, here he was in canvas booties, a short-sleeved gown with no back to it and a repulsive grey chenille dressing gown two sizes too small for him. He had been escorted to breakfast that had consisted of tasteless gruel, burnt toast and lukewarm tea, before being left to his own devices in a lounge room full of clearly mentally-impaired Muggles that reminded him forcefully of the locked ward at St. Mungo's.

Glancing around, Albus noticed one of the young men who had bathed him the night before, was sitting in a chair near the door, reading a newspaper. He sidled over towards him, avoiding all the rocking, drooling twitching Muggles, and cleared his throat.

The nurse looked up. "What can I do for you, Grandpa?"

Albus mentally gritted his teeth at the familiarity and cleared his throat again. "I was wondering, young man, if you might tell me what today's date is", he said in his most avuncular tone.

"Sure it's… um… 2nd of August," the nurse said before shuffling the paper and raising it again.

Albus squashed down the spike of panic. It was the reading of Sirius' will in only a few hours, so he had to get out of this awful place! He cleared his throat again, drawing the nurse's attention. "I do apologize for interrupting you, but I would be most grateful if you would permit me out to the lavatory."

The nurse sighed, folded his paper and got up, leaving it on the seat of his chair as he pulled out his keys and opened the sitting room door. "Come on Grandpa, I'll take you," he said, and after relocking the door behind them, he led Albus down the hall towards the nurses' station and the patient toilet just beyond it.

As they were passing the glass-enclosed office, Albus glimpsed a bright flash of color. His robes! There were his robes! And… Merlin! His wand!

A somewhat balding man was seated at the desk behind the glass, examining the bizarre clothes and the strange wooden implement their latest patient had had when he was picked up by the police. Turning it over and over in his hands, he admired the craftsmanship, but what the dickens was it?

Outside, Albus turned to the male nurse and spoke politely, "Would you mind waiting for just one moment?" He moved over to tap gently on the glass in front of the bespectacled man.

Directly in front of the Muggle, set into the glass, was a sliding door, just barely large enough to fit a hand through. The Muggle opened this and looked up at Dumbledore with a slightly annoyed expression that cleared to one of pointed interest.

"Ah! Our new patient," he said. "How may I assist you?"

Albus smiled winningly, his blue eyes twinkling. "Excuse me sir," he said, "I see you have my property there. Would you, by any chance, have my spectacles?"

The Muggle, his expression somewhat surprised, placed the intriguing wooden stick on the bench and smiled at the polite elderly gent. "Bear with me for a moment and I'll have a look."

Albus sketched a small bow and cranked the smile up a little more. "Thank you, I would be most appreciative," he said.

He glanced at the male nurse, who, bored, had turned away and was whistling to himself, then back as the Muggle inside the office got up and began to search through the robes and several large envelopes. While his attention was diverted, Albus managed to get his long, skinny fingers through the narrow slot and barely, just barely, got a fingernail onto the end of the wand.

With complete disregard for his hand, he rammed it as far into the slot as he could, ripping layers of skin off the knuckles and back, but the burning pain was as nothing to his sense of relief as he managed to grasp his wand between the tips of his first and second fingers and pull it towards himself.

"Oi!" a voice said from behind him, a heavy hand falling on his shoulder. "What do ya' think you're doing?"

It was the young male nurse, and he did not look happy.

Within the office, the Muggle whirled around and made a diving grab for the other end of the wand, but Albus, with a burst of adrenaline-charged strength, wrenched it free. With great satisfaction he stunned the nurse who was trying to twist his arm up his back, then whirled around to stun the Muggle just in time to see him slam his hand down on a red button protruding from the desk.

As sirens wailed, doors opened up and down the corridors, and the sound of pounding feet got louder.

Albus sighed. Today was already proving to be a pain in the posterior.

-}---

Peter Pettigrew was not happy.

He was the first to admit he wasn't the strongest of wizards, but there had always been one thing he could pride himself on - a skill he excelled at. He had always been particularly sensitive to the auras of magically charged objects. In this, he had been of great use to the Marauders whilst he had been at school, as it had been a key element in the success of many of their elaborate pranks.

Now however, in the service of Voldemort, this sensitivity was something of a liability, _especially_ when the Dark Lord received deliveries of books and items that made all the hair on his body stand up on end.

At the moment, he was guiding a swarthy, foul-tempered Turkish wizard and trader to his Master and whatever the man had in his pockets literally made Peter feel sick.

When they reached the door of Voldemort's private study, Peter knocked softly, and only opened the door after he was commanded to do so.

"Master, the wizard Ghulman Ali Veis is here," he said, trying not to stutter.

Within the chamber, the light was provided by flickering oil lamps and several clusters of candles, whilst directly above the desk in the centre of the room, a magical globe of silvery luminescence hung. Beneath it stood Voldemort.

He was obviously researching something as books and scrolls were scattered everywhere. Sheaves of parchment covered in his tiny handwriting lay stacked on the floor and on the table. To the left, below three open casement windows, a long bench bore several cauldrons bubbling over magical fires, whilst to the right of the central desk sat another bench, covered in jars, bottles and boxes. Some of the items in the jars were so repulsive Pettigrew found going anywhere near them incredibly difficult.

"Ah, Ghulman! Finally!" The Dark Lord snapped, his crimson eyes glowing in the muted light. The trader marched forward and knelt in front of the table.

"I am here Lord, as you commanded," he said, in heavily accented English.

Voldemort lay down the quill he was holding and advanced around the table, to stand looking down at the Turkish wizard. "And you would not dare be here had you not obtained what I wanted," he murmured sibilantly.

The trader nodded and reached into his robes to withdraw a small iron box the size of his palm. This he placed on the ground at Voldemort's feet and shuffled backwards on his knees.

The moment he brought it out, Peter felt a most horrifying ripple of terror and his skin became cold and clammy. Everything in him urged him to knock Voldemort away from the casket before he could enlarge it. This impulse warred with an equally intense desire to run screaming from the room and not stop ever.

Of course, being who and what he was, he did neither.

Instead, he remained just inside the door, nauseous and trembling, as the Dark Lord, with a hissing chuckle, drew out his wand and bent down to tap the tiny box. Immediately, it regained its usual proportions – an iron chest, three feet tall, two feet long and a foot and a half wide. It was embossed all over with strange markings, some of which were runes, from several different futharks, but others appeared to be meaningless squiggles. These were interspersed amongst grotesque faces and other images that made Peter shudder and struggle to drag his eyes away, for they were repulsively alluring.

On the top were a series of inlayed concentric circles of copper, silver and gold, with a disc of onyx set in the center, on which was etched the outline of a hand. Whilst there was clearly a thumb, there were only two thick fingers and a distorted palm, for the imprint was quite clearly not human.

With his wand, Voldemort levitated the chest over to the bench on the right hand side, which literally groaned under its weight, and for several long minutes, he did nothing but run his lascivious hands and avaricious gaze over his new acquisition.

Finally, he turned around and the sheer look of glee and sadistic satisfaction twisting his inhuman face almost made Peter moan aloud in fear.

"You have done well Ghulman, Lord Voldemort is pleased. Do you have any leads as yet on the whereabouts of the Hand of Braag'Xkash?"

"I have, my Lord. It is currently in the possession of the Old Woman of the Mountains, in northern Carpathia. I am headed there as soon as you dismiss me, but I must warn you, Lord, it shall not be easy to obtain. She is the Matriarch of the oldest and most insular of the Vampyr clans and I expect considerable difficulty in even gaining an audience with her, never mind obtaining the Hand."

Voldemort looked thoughtful before abruptly waving his hand at his visitor. "Get up man," he said, pulling a heavy silver necklace from within his robes. "I shall give you this medallion. It connects to one I will wear, and if you have need of more supplies or resources, contact me by holding it and saying my name. I will also ensure a further 250,000 galleons will be transferred to your account at Gringott's. Should you manage to gain an audience with the Old Woman, simply squeeze the medallion and I will portkey to you immediately."

Ghulman bowed. "It shall be as you command, Lord." And with that, he backed from the room.

Voldemort glanced at Peter. "See him out Wormtail, then come back here. I have several experiments that you can assist me with." The cold smile that accompanied this made Peter's bowels loosen and he ran from the room, followed by the echoes of his Master's hissing laugh.

-}---

Cornelius Fudge was happy.

He stood in front of his office mirror and carefully smoothed a hand over his perfectly coiffed hair and straightened his expensive blue acromantula silk robes. Today was the reading of the criminal Sirius Black's Will, and thanks to the hard work and research skills of Weatherbee and dear Dolores, he would soon be claiming that immense amount of gold for the Ministry.

It had been Dolores's suggestion it might be possible for him to do this, but it had been young Weatherbee who had actually found the ancient laws he would have the pleasure of invoking.

Humming the latest Celestina Warbeck love song to himself, the Minister carefully adjusted his cravat and tugged his waistcoat into place. It was time for lunch, and a delicious meal, with a glass of his favorite Firewhisky would be a lovely lead-up to his visit to Gringott's.

With that in mind, he swept out of his office, and on the way past his aide's desk, he spoke to the red-haired young man. "Don't forget to meet me in the Gringott's foyer at a quarter to two and please ensure that Under-Secretary Umbridge is on time."

Percy Weasley nodded to his boss. "Of course sir, and I have arranged for an Auror detail to meet you at the elevators so you are properly escorted to lunch."

Fudge nodded pompously, murmured 'excellent' under his breath and swanned off.

Percy watched him go and sighed. This, whilst the right thing to do, both for the Ministry and his career prospects, would no doubt have repercussions with the rest of his family…and Harry Potter. However, he consoled himself with the knowledge that he was acting for the Greater Good.

-}---

Dudley Dursley was not happy.

The last couple of days had been completely awful. Mummy was in a nuthouse, Dad was dead; he hadn't got his pocket money, he hadn't been able to watch any of his favorite TV programs, or even play '_Alien Slaughter Mutilation 4_' on his computer - and no one would listen to him, no matter how much he yelled, or how much fuss he made.

After the death of his father and his mother's break down, he'd been taken by the police to, of all places, St Brutus's, as there were apparently no other available housing options, and his Aunt Marge had been away from home and unable to be contacted.

Dudley didn't like St Brutus's. They wouldn't feed him as much as he wanted or when he wanted, they wouldn't bring him a large screen TV, or his 'nature' magazines, and when, at lunchtime, he took some fish and chips he wanted away from some snotty little kid, he was swiftly tackled by three large, burly men and hauled off to this stinking little room where he had been left for hours.

Why did all these horrible things have to happen to him?

He had been questioned extensively by the coppers but had decided it was in his best interests not to mention any of the 'freak' stuff that must have happened, and instead, had claimed he'd seen nothing, heard nothing and knew nothing.

The Policewoman who had come to see him had said as soon as they could get in contact with Marge Dursley they would arrange to move him there, as she was his only living adult relative who was competent to care for him. Apparently, Mummy was cattletonic, or something, the stupid cow, in the nut house and his Dad's funeral was having to wait until Marge got back to organize it.

Dudley looked around the tiny bare room, then up at the door at the sound of a key in the lock. One of the men who'd thrown him in there opened the door and tossed him a small drawstring bag and a towel.

"Shower. Now." He said, and Dudley, wanting anything to do to escape the boredom, puffed his way to his feet and plodded along behind the man as he led the way to the communal showers.

At the door, he shoved Dudley into the steam-filled room and barked "Fifteen minutes, I'll be back,"

As Dudley heard the door lock click shut, he became aware he was not the only one in there. Slowly, he turned around to find a half dozen of the biggest, most muscular looking late-teens he had ever seen and all of them were smiling at him in a most disturbing way.

He also noticed they were all naked.

"Well, well, well," said the largest one, who had a shaved head and several tattoos, "look here boys, it's fresh meat."

Shaking like a jelly, Dudley pressed back against the door and whimpered. Today was proving to be a real pain in the posterior.

-}---

Severus Snape was happy.

It wasn't every day he had the pleasure of going to the Will reading of one of his greatest enemies, a formality that confirmed the mangy, rabid mutt was dead. In a way, he thought, it was a pity there had been no body and thus no grave he could have gone and danced on, no headstone he could have pissed on, but still, Sirius Black was indeed dead and that made it an excellent day.

Practically humming to himself, he strode into the echoing entrance of Hogwarts only to pull up short at the sight of Minerva McGonagall, Filius Flitwick and the oaf Hagrid waiting, obviously, for him.

"Ah, Professor Snape," McGonagall said briskly, "in excellent time. Now that we're all here, I suggest we be on our way."

Severus barely restrained himself from snarling at them, he'd had no idea anyone else from the school had been asked to the Will reading. In point of fact, he wasn't entirely sure why he had. Even if it was some final joke on Black's part, he could happily shrug it off because the bastard was dead. And as he reminded himself, that was all that mattered.

"Fine," he said ungraciously, and the other three glanced among themselves before Minerva held out a small gold bangle.

"If we all touch this, we will be portkeyed directly to Gringott's."

With ill grace, Severus huffed out a sigh and rested one long finger on the bangle, as each of the others did the same. They vanished in a swirl of colors and magical energy.

-}---

Narcissa Malfoy was happy.

She had already punished two elves for clumsiness and had just dismissed the third from her chambers. She was dressed most carefully for her visit to Gringott's, as it would be a great day indeed as the Malfoys gained control of the Black fortune. She would later take considerable delight in turning it over to her Master.

However, before that most pleasurable event, in fact, before her trip to Gringott's, Narcissa had another matter that required her attention, something she was going to enjoy immensely.

Picking up her wand from her dresser, with one final check of her appearance, admiring the way the silver-gilt robes complimented her fair, patrician beauty, Narcissa strode from her quarters towards her son's.

Draco was having a most pleasant dream about what he would like to do to Daphne Greengrass…when it was brutally terminated.

Shrieking in agony, he thrashed around, all tangled in his sheets, feeling as if his skin and muscles were being cut from his bones by a thousand red-hot knives. When the pain eased abruptly, he fell out of bed onto the floor, tears and snot running down his face, all his muscles twitching and spasming from the after effects of the _Crucio_.

He looked up through teary eyes to see his mother, wand pointed, smiling at him.

"A small reminder my son, that whilst you might enjoy some liberties at the direction of our Lord, under this roof, I am your master and you will keep that firmly in mind."

Before Draco could say or do anything, she again cast the spell and watched with sadistic amusement as Draco flopped and screamed, and did not lift the spell until he lost control of his bladder. As he curled up into a ball, weeping at her feet, the stench of sweat and urine heavy on the air, Narcissa reached down and ran her fingers through his sweat-soaked hair, before clenching her fist in the strands and wrenching his head up, forcing him to look at her. She then placed the tip of her wand directly on his right nipple.

"Remember my son, I am far more powerful than you, and I will not hesitate to remind you of that fact."

Draco was so debilitated by the _Crucio _that when the end of her wand began to glow a sullen red, and smoke spiraled up into the air, he was too weak to pull away from her, and could only scream.

-}---

Neville Longbottom was not happy.

He tried opening his eyes only to, at least what felt like, slam them shut again, as the light stabbed right into his brain. "Oh, Merlin!" he rasped, clutching his head, which felt as if it was about to explode.

With great care, he slowly sat up, wincing as muscles and joints protested. The last time he could remember hurting this much was when Emeraldine, his Venomous Tentacula had, in some sort of vegetable snit, picked him up and thrown him across his greenhouse, right into a stand of young Whomping Willows.

With considerable reluctance, he tried opening his eyes again, and was relieved to find it was only very uncomfortable, rather than agonizingly painful. "What the bloody hell happened?" He muttered to himself, absentmindedly rubbing his bare chest.

Bare chest?

He looked down and saw the entire front of his robes, jumper and shirt had been burned away. His skin was pink but otherwise unblemished. For a moment, he stared stupidly at himself then all of a sudden he remembered.

He remembered Harry glowing with light and colors.

He remembered him floating up into the air, bolts of magical energy shooting to him from the golden circle on the floor, and from the runes inlaid in the cavern walls.

He remembered… oh God he'd never forget… the untrammeled agony as Harry had screamed.

He remembered blazing bolts of colored lightning arching down from Harry's convulsing form to strike each of the watchers, with the exception of the goblins.

Wonderingly, he again examined his chest. What had that yellow energy done to him? Other than being incredibly sore, he felt all right. Abruptly, he jerked his head up, which made him grunt with pain and grab his neck as he looked around for everybody else.

Bodies lay everywhere. Most were stirring, and to his right, Remus, with his werewolf stamina, was actually up on his feet helping a dazed Kingsley sit up, or, more accurately, sitting him up, propped against an equally dazed Charlie.

A little further around the circumference of what Neville saw was now a melted and distorted golden circle, Luna and Tonks were working on the twins whilst Bill, looking very much the worse for wear, was crawling towards a still unconscious Hermione.

Other than Remus, the only ones who were up and about were Aksaki and, strangely enough, Dobby. They were both trying to help Ragnok lift up a winged figure Neville could barely believe was real.

Looking around, he couldn't see Harry anywhere, but his eyes drifted back to the huge winged man the goblins were fussing over. He almost swallowed his tongue when he realized the only person it could be was Harry.

With a grunt of pained effort, Neville staggered to his feet and stood swaying for a moment, until he was moderately certain he had his balance under control. Then, step by careful step, he made his way over to the being he believed was his friend.

"…Blahshaggl erithewa asdo'rtzho asuifnh…" Ragnok broke off as Dobby gave a squeak of relief and launched himself at Neville, to frantically hug his leg.

With one hand, Neville gently pulled on the Elf's nearest ear. "It's all right, little friend, don't worry, we'll look after Harry," he said. "Just let me go for now so I can talk to Ragnok and Aksaki. Why don't you go and see if you can help any of the others."

Without a word, but a tearful smile of gratitude, the House Elf darted off to help Remus, Shack and Charlie, as they were clearly the most conscious, and if he helped them, they would then be able to help the others.

A trifle shakily, Neville knelt beside Ragnok, and with great caution, ran his hands over the arms and shoulder area of the man lying face down in the sand, his head in Aksaki's lap.

"It's Harry?"

Both Goblins nodded and Aksaki gently stroked the black, crimson and gold hair that lay in a long silken sheet over her legs and down onto the sand.

"It is indeed," Ragnok murmured. "We do not think he is injured as such, but he appears to be utterly exhausted in terms of his magic. He healed me of wounds that should have been fatal then collapsed."

"Was this…" and Neville gestured towards Harry's utterly transformed body, "an expected outcome of the ritual?"

The two goblins exchanged looks, then both made odd grunting noises Neville rightly translated as goblin laughter.

"Not even close." Aksaki said. "I have never, in all my years, seen such a response to the Blood Adoption Ritual."

"Harry never does anything the usual, or easy, way," Neville said with a lopsided grin.

"Those wings are going to make his wish to be 'just Harry' a tad more difficult than it used to be," Remus said, his tone dry, from directly behind Neville, who glanced up at him, a look of relief on his face.

"Thank Merlin you're alright." He exclaimed. "I don't think the three of us have the slightest idea what to do about Harry."

The werewolf stared down at his nephew and slowly shook his head. "My God Sirius, if I could get my hands on you right now, I'd punch your bloody head in," he muttered to himself, then glanced at Neville. "I think we may need some assistance to fold Harry's new…um…_appendages, _then perhaps we can carefully turn him over and check for any damage." Absentmindedly, he scratched his chest, then realized Neville, like him, had had the entire front of his clothes burned away. "You too I see," he commented, pointing at his own exposed skin.

"The bolt that hit me was bright shining yellow," Neville said. "How about you?"

Remus' lips twitched. "Brilliant blue for me."

Before he could say any more, Shack and Charlie, both looking disheveled and with matching holes in their clothing, joined them, supporting George who still looked far from well. Luna and Tonks, propping up an equally groggy Fred, were directly behind them. A few moments later, Bill staggered over with Hermione in his arms. She was awake but was as white as a ghost and moaning in pain. With care, he lowered her to the ground, propping her head carefully in his hands. Even so, she gave a muffled grunt, which for Hermione, indicated she was in a great deal of pain. Dobby too rejoined them, and as everyone looked around, it was clear they had all been struck by the magical bolts.

"Golden yellow," Neville said, pointing at his own chest.

"Bright Blue," Remus added, tapping himself with a fingertip.

Both twins shakily raised their hands. "Dark red," they said in unison.

"Black for me," Shack said.

Charlie grunted. "Flaming orange."

Tonks, her hair cycling through her more subdued pastel shades, said "brilliant pink," then matched her hair to her words.

"Purple for me," Bill commented, "and Hermione said all she could remember was a blinding silver light."

Dobby stepped forward around Bill's legs, pulling on one of his ears and looking worried. His normal bizarre clothing also showed signs of being burned across the chest. "I is being hit too," he said. "The light is being brown and gold."

Remus looked very thoughtful at this and glanced at Ragnok and Aksaki. "Neither of you were hit by magic?" he asked.

Ragnok shook his head. "I was terribly injured and Harry healed me, I believe he pulled me back literally from the river's edge, but no, I was not touched by magic during the actual ceremony."

Aksaki murmured, "I was bodily thrown as far as the barrier around my staff and our supplies. They were all knocked unconscious by a wave of magic, but are otherwise unhurt. I too was rendered unconscious for a time. But unlike all of you, I was not struck specifically by magic from Mr. Potter."

"Fascinating," Remus murmured to himself, then glanced across at the one member of their group who had yet to say anything. 'And what of you, Luna?" he asked.

The blonde girl, who was standing silently beside Fred and Tonks, slowly turned to face him, and he bit off an exclamation of shock as did the others, for her normally blue eyes were completely black and her face mask-like. She spoke in a harsh and guttural voice, completely unlike her normal tone.

"_As the Archer leaves the field to the Goat…the blood of a misguided innocent is spread on ancient stones … and this will open the Way….Those Who Hunger will come…and will consume the world entire…in agony and ashes….The one who flies from death will open the Way…as the Archer leaves the field to the Goat._"

As the last word echoed through the cavern, her eyes returned to normal, then rolled up in her head and she collapsed bonelessly to the ground, even as her Bonded tried to catch her.

"Well…" Charlie said dryly, "I don't think it really matters what color magic bolt hit her, I think we can all guess what it did."

Remus looked over at the dragon-keeper. "Charlie, you're the expert on bloody, hulking beings with giant wings, so you and Shack can give us a hand while the twins and Tonks look after Luna. Bill, please stay with Hermione. Everybody right? Then let's fold up these wings and turn Harry over."

-}---

The post lunch crowds in Diagon Alley swept to and fro as they did every day, and an observer would have been hard put to pick out anything out of the ordinary. Had anyone been watching closely, they might have noticed the formidable Dowager Longbottom escorting a pair of Muggles on what was obviously a shopping expedition, the three of them exiting Madam Malkin's establishment and heading towards Gringott's.

The same watcher might, if they had cast their eyes to the other end of the alley, noticed a cadaverously thin, elderly man appear on one of the Ministry Apparition points and start to meander along, peering in various shop fronts, until he was hailed by another elderly gentleman exiting _Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes_.

This man, with a bright blue, magical eye and a wooden peg-leg, spoke briefly to the first, who gestured towards the snowy marble building further down the alley, then the two of them proceeded in that direction, chatting amicably.

A few moments later, a small, preoccupied looking gentleman toddled out of _Flourish and Blott's_, his explosion of blond hair wafting in the breeze, and he too strode up the alley, busily writing in a notebook and muttering to himself.

As Madam Longbottom and her charges passed Florian Fortesque's, a formidable looking witch, with a monocle screwed firmly into her right eye, waved to catch their attention, spoke briefly with Augusta, then joined the trio and they continued together towards the bank.

Meanwhile, Cornelius Fudge, replete with good food and a substantial amount of Firewhisky, strutted his way along the alley, magnanimously nodding to all and sundry, six Aurors shadowing him, led by his good friend James Dawlish. As he reached the gleaming steps of the bank, he looked up them to see the tall thin redheaded form of his aide and the squat figure of his Under-Secretary waiting for him.

With great enthusiasm, he marched up the steps, ignored the strange editor of that scurrilous rag '_The Quibbler_', nodded graciously to the old dragon Augusta Longbottom, noted that his Director of Magical Law Enforcement was with her and a pair of Muggles, and he bowed slightly and indicated they should proceed him inside.

He went to follow them, and bumped into…

"Good day to you, Minister."

The harsh and undeniably sarcastic tones of Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody, cut through Fudge's pleasant Firewhisky induced haze. He muttered something incoherent and swept into the bank, his Auror escorts scrambling to keep up with him, trying to ignore the deranged ex-Auror's malicious grin.

He never even noticed Croaker, which was just the way that individual liked it.

As the Unspeakable walked into the bank, he grinned to himself, seeing Narcissa Malfoy and her repulsive, snotty little spawn being led through a door by one goblin whilst Minerva McGonagall, good old Filius Flitwick, Hagrid and Dumbledore's pet death-eater were being led across the chamber by yet another goblin towards the same door, Augusta and the remaining members of what he fondly thought of as 'the Old Guard' not far behind.

Mentally, he rubbed his hands together. All the players were gathered - let the drama begin!

-}---

A few hours after Luna had blurted out her first prophecy, everyone was feeling better than when they first awoke, albeit still a tad rattled.

While the goblins, under the watchful eyes of Aksaki, set up sleeping areas, a library, a dueling ring, several suits of armor on stands, with numerous weapons laid out on a nearby conjured table, kitchen facilities and other necessities, Ragnok stayed close beside an unconscious Harry, clearly upset he had had such a traumatic experience with a goblin ritual.

Bill had also made a recalcitrant Hermione, the only one of them still in pain, lie down on the bed next to Harry's, and had sat with her until she was able to swallow one of the freshly prepared pain potions.

Runespitter and Bloodink had used those few hours to lay out numerous potion ingredients, and had begun brewing several goblin recipes. These had immediately caught Fred and George's attention, and they had been working alongside the two shamans, bombarding them with questions, until Remus forcibly dragged them away to eat dinner.

Finally, everyone was sitting around a comforting fire, swapping stories and life histories, when a groan came from the sleeping area. Everyone looked over to see Harry stirring, and Luna, Tonks, Fred and George ran over to him to make sure he was truly waking up.

Harry was exhausted, but relieved he was alive and apparently intact. Opening his eyes, he saw his Bonded kneeling on either side of his bed, Remus, Shack and the others standing around them in a semi-circle.

"What's up guys? What's happened?" He asked groggily, before trying to sit up. That was a bad idea as pain dragged across his back and he felt instantly dizzy and had to lie down again.

"Aside from you electrocuting us all into submission, Luna spouting prophecies and the cavern being turned into a warzone, not much," Tonks answered, smiling down at him.

"What?" Harry asked, alarmed. He tried to move, but there was something heavy and lumpy under his back that made it impossible for him to get far.

"You've been out for a while, but we'll explain it all," Fred answered.

"Yeah, right from when you knocked us all off our feet…again!" George added. As succinctly as possible, with many interjections from the other three, he filled Harry in on all that had occurred.

Just as he finished, Charlie spoke. "Well, now you're awake, Sleeping Beauty, we might be able to get to the bottom of what you did to us," he said, from near the foot of the bed, where he stood with one arm around Neville' waist.

"Yeah Pup, you _have_ been busy," Remus added, with a chuckle, "as you can clearly see just by looking down at yourself!"

"Why can't I get up? There's something on my back," Harry said, grimacing as everyone laughed. "Fine. I'm the butt of the joke. What did I say that's so funny?" He demanded.

"Oh, those would be your fire colored, giant, 20 foot wingspan phoenix wings, Harry," Hermione explained cheerfully. "They're poking out of the tattoo on your back."

"What the? I have _wings_?" Harry almost squeaked.

"Yeah, you have wings," Charlie said. "Big'uns", he added, unhelpfully.

"I think we can thank Fawkes and Norbert for those," Bill commented.

"How, in Merlin's worst nightmare, am I going to be able to get around with humongous, bloody wings?" Harry bellowed, making everyone wince.

"Try feeling the magic in them, Harry, then imagine them sliding back into the tattoo, into your skin," Luna said calmly.

He looked at her cock-eyed, but did as she suggested, and a few minutes later, he felt the bizarre sensation of his wings first shrinking, then smoothing down into the skin of his back. "Thanks, Luna!" He breathed, much relieved, and gently kissed the blonde. This, of course, led to him having to kiss the twins and Tonks too…not that he really minded.

"Umm…Remus? Could you make a mirror for me? I know I've changed, and I need to see all of me." Harry frowned, his expression troubled.

"What's wrong, sweets?" Tonks asked, gently rubbing his back.

"I don't feel right. I don't know my body, my shape. I feel all unbalanced and weird," he explained, and the Metamorphmagus nodded.

"That sounds just how I felt when I first learned how to change parts, then all, of my body," she said. "It just takes time to rediscover your center, your inner balance. I'll teach you the meditations I learned. They helped me a lot."

Harry hugged her, murmured 'Thanks!' into her pink hair, even as Remus transfigured a folding chair into a full-length mirror. With a bit of help from the twins, he got up, and shuffled clumsily over to stand in front of it.

"I think your days playing Seeker might be over," Fred said sadly, "you're a smidge tall now."

"You're going to need a bigger broom too," his twin added.

Charlie snorted. "Just yank up a tree, rip off the branches, magic it a bit and you'll be all set!"

Harry stared, his mouth hanging open. "Fucking Hell! I'm _huge_!"

"And seven foot tall, so you're nicely in proportion," Luna said, clapping her hands and smiling widely.

Harry's gaze dropped down…and he blushed so hard, he thought steam would surely gush from his ears. Quickly he refocused on his face, ignoring the sniggers from his audience.

Instead of his old reflection looking back, Harry saw a very powerfully muscled, smooth skinned young man looking back at him, brilliant tattoos gleaming, black hair to his knees, streaked with crimson and gold, skin a darker, almost golden tone, much like Firenze's.

He really liked his eyes. The centers were still the same vibrant green as before, but now there was an outer ring of pale grey, the exact shade Sirius's had been, and a third, thin ring of gold, just like Moony's. He could also see properly without his glasses!

Opening his mouth, he noted he had predatory fangs like a dragon or wildcat that matched the claw-like nails on his hands and feet. He choked back a chuckle at his goblinesque pointed ears, and sudden tears as he realized the shape of his nose, eyes and chin was now like Sirius's had been.

As he twisted and turned, studying his tattoos more closely, he saw the one of Hedwig on his shoulder. He swung around to the others, almost falling as his much larger body confused him.

"Hey! Has anyone seen Hedwig, Fawkes or Crookshanks?" He demanded.

Hermione gasped, a hand going to her mouth. "Oh no! How could I be so stupid? Crooks? Crooks, where are you?" She began to run frantically around all the equipment, calling for her Familiar.

Everyone else began to search too, calling out the animals' names, but there was no response.

Harry and Hermione were really starting to worry, when suddenly there was a shout from Dobby, who was all the way over by the small pool of water Harry had bathed in prior to the ritual. "Here, Master Harry Potter sir, and Bill Weezy's Miss Mione! They is here!"

Hermione got there first. "CROOKSHANKS!" She shrieked, dropping to her knees beside a large orange and black mound. Harry, stumbling a bit still, was totally shocked when he looked at the cat she was cuddling.

He was massive, the size of a puma or leopard, with fangs a Sabertooth wouldn't have rejected. Just his head now completely filled Hermione's lap, and his tongue swiped her whole face as he licked her.

"Bloody hell!" Kingsley said, as he and the others crowded around.

Harry looked around frantically for his owl, until Dobby pointed down at the sand, just near Harry's feet.

There, poking up out of two little piles of ash were a pair of newborn phoenixes!

Harry carefully knelt, terrified he'd crush or hurt them with his new, clumsy body, then picked them up. One he recognized as Fawkes, having seen him immediately after a Burning Day, but the other….

It was a tiny female, with a little tuft of white down on her head. "Hedwig?" Harry croaked, and the little bird gave a tired cheep, and looked up at him with his owl's golden eyes.

"Wow!" Neville exclaimed.

"Magical!" Luna murmured.

"I don't believe it," Bill muttered.

"Quite understandable, all things considered," Aksaki's voice broke in.

Everyone turned to look at her.

"Harry absorbed the magic of the ritual itself, the bloods' magic, plus all the magic from the golden circle, and all the layers and years of magic in the cavern walls themselves. All of it was drawn into Harry. From there, it leaped out and affected all of you, and in turn, your Familiars."

The goblin Shamaness smiled toothily. "Hedwig was so affected by the ritual, through her link to Harry she evolved. Such was also the case with the kneazle."

"Brilliant," Harry said in a mixed tone of excitement and sadness. He loved Hedwig as an owl, and it seemed like he had lost his beloved friend, but immediately gained a new one.

"I have had a chance to assess all of you," Aksaki continued, "and now these little ones are safe, let us return to the fire and sit. I have some things to share with you all that cannot safely wait."

Once everyone was reseated, the ancient goblin settled herself and smiled around at the ring of faces, human and goblin and house elf, lit by the fire's dancing flames. "Now," she asked, "who wants to go first?"

There was a slight pause, then Remus stepped forward and knelt in front of her, so he was within her reach. She ran a hand over the place on his chest where's Harry's magic had struck him, muttering something in Gobbledygook. After a few minutes, she removed her hand and looked at him quizzically.

"I have good news and I have bad news," she said.

"What's the bad news?" Remus asked.

"The bad news is that you are still allergic to silver, but the good news is that the moon no longer rules you, and your other self is now a direwolf, not a werewolf any longer. But I can't tell you much more right now."

Remus didn't know what to say…to think! He'd been an infectious monster, a reviled, shunned Dark Creature since he was a small child…but now…_somehow_…Harry had healed him?

He couldn't take it in, and Shack had to help him, white and trembling, back to his seat.

With something of a worried look, Charlie stepped forward and Aksaki performed the same chant while running her hand over his chest. "You've been given an affinity with fire, heat and dragonspeech. Much is yet to be revealed, so I suggest that, until we work out more, don't play with fire."

Charlie glanced at Neville and gave him a slightly lecherous grin. "I'll be sure not to get my fingers burned then."

"Don't burn your tongue either!" The twins suggested helpfully, as Neville's face went an interesting shade of vermillion.

Next was Bill. "Your eyes are different," Aksaki murmured, "and there is something you will be able to see that others can't, something to do with your work, your passion and your skills," she said.

"What's with the vague answers, Aksaki?" Bill asked.

"Because it is new magic, it still needs time to manifest itself more fully. When it gets stronger, I will be able to see more." Aksaki answered.

Bill stepped back and Tonks took his place. "My dear, your abilities as a Metamorphmagus seem to be getting much stronger. I believe you will 'break the barrier'."

Tonks smiled as her hair went a brilliant shade of green. "If that means what I think it does, I am going to be seriously chuffed!" She said, and stepped back as the twins, hand in hand, stepped forward.

"You two hmm? Well, let us see." Aksaki put her hand on Fred's chest and cast the spell, but couldn't detect anything. She did the same with George, but she still turned up blank. Reflecting back on what they had said about their twin lightening bolts, she cast the spell on both of them at once and that turned up some answers.

"You Two Who Are One Soul have a joined animagus form, but it is still not clear what it is." She said. The twins, looks of excitement on their faces, high-fived each other and stepped back.

Neville stepped forward next and Aksaki muttered the spell again, then smiled to herself. "A powerful ability for healing has been awakened in you, not given to you. The chains on your magic are gone, burned away. Expect to do great things," she said. Neville, feeling oddly comforted, stepped back.

With only a few left to read, Shacklebolt stepped forward.

"I see a new power for you - an animagus form is given to you. But you will have to find out what it is, for I am not being shown its form. Your beloved will be able to help you birth your new self," Aksaki muttered.

Shack went back to his place and, to everyone's surprise, Dobby stepped forward. Aksaki cast her spell and nodded. "Very good. A more powerful core, but to what end or for what purpose I cannot yet say," she said.

Dobby looked a little worried, not knowing if his new abilities were safe or not.

Everyone now looked at Harry.

Aksaki shook her head, her many plaits bouncing. "Not yet. I am going to look at Hermione and then read Harry. He will take more concentration, so I want to get everyone else out of the way first." She glanced at Luna. "You, Moon's Child, I do not need to read, for your gift is revealed."

Luna nodded soberly as the bushy haired witch moved past her and knelt in front of the goblin, and, rather than putting her hand on the girl's chest, Aksaki rested it on Hermione's head. "Your mind, my dear child, your mind is different, expanded, reshaped. You will have to explore these changes and develop them."

Aksaki now turned to Harry. "Now, let us see you, young Warrior Mage," she said. Harry, knowing what to do, knelt down, and Aksaki placed one hand on his chest, the other on his brow and started chanting. It took her a lot longer and she had to repeat the chant twice.

Finally, she finished and looked at him. "Much has changed for you, Harry. There are very few things about you that remain the same. You have much to learn in your time here before you even reach half your potential," Aksaki said sharply. "Somehow, your core has expanded beyond anything I've seen before. It overflows with magic, burning like the sun with power. The evil thing that was in you is gone, and so are all the blocks and chains on your magic."

"I can't do anything right, can I?" Harry asked.

"Nope," everyone said in unison.

"For now Harry, I suggest you learn how to easily summon and banish your wings," Aksaki muttered.

Runespitter and Bloodink came forward as Aksaki drooped tiredly in her seat. With gentle concern, they helped her up, then led her away, intent on putting her to bed, as she was clearly exhausted.

"Well, let's continue," Ragnok said into the well of silence. He was standing by the table with the all the weapons laid out neatly. "It is time to find out what weapon each of you is best suited to use. Many are at your disposal, from staffs to axes to swords, and even a crossbow. Walk up and down and the right weapon will call to you," Ragnok instructed.

Everyone did as he directed, and soon people were lifting up and examining various items.

Harry, feeling a bit unsure, started to walk up and down the table, looking at the weapons, but nothing was catching his interest. The only weapon he had ever held was the sword of Gryffindor, and it wasn't here.

Soon, he reached the selection of swords: Chinese sabers, sickle swords, broadswords, bastard swords, the amethyst inlaid sword from Ragnok's office, katanas, a claymore… wait a minute!

Harry turned back to the gem-encrusted sword and looked at it.

"How did this get here?' he asked.

Ragnok's grin was rather feral. "That, Harry, is the sword of Blooddrinker, Founder of my Clan and First Director of Gringott's. It and Gryffindor's ruby blade were made at the same time, by the same goblin magesmith, Stormhammer the Great."

Harry picked it up and looked at it. Set with amethysts, it had the same shaped blade, but with an inscription in Gobbledygook on it. He stepped back and made a few swipes with it, finding it to be the same weight and balance in his hand that he remembered from years before.

When he finished, but before he could put it down, something very peculiar happened. Much like his wand had done many years ago, the sword glowed and a feeling of warmth spread over Harry. But this time, the glow was bright silver.

With an impulsive move of his wrist, Harry flicked the sword out away from his body.

With startling suddenness, the blade extended to three times its length, separating into a dozen razor edged, chevron-shaped smaller blades, evenly spaced along a flexible central cable. When he jerked his hand back, the blades retracted and rejoined into its former shape.

"I… wha… how…" Harry tried, but then stopped, realizing he was babbling.

"The whip sword of Blooddrinker!" Ragnok answered in total awe. "No one has wielded a whip sword in more than 1000 years! The sword has responded to your power, and deemed you are worthy of wielding it."

Harry looked closely at the sword and something about the carved ivory hilt caught his eye. It looked as if there was a small, circular button, right where his thumb would go. Harry pressed on it and again the blade separated into the chevron shaped sections, coiling down onto the ground like the whip for which it was named, all linked by the incredibly flexible, intricately woven steel chain. Harry let go of the button, flicked the blade up, and the sword reformed.

"I think we can expect great deeds from _you_, Mr. Potter," Ragnok said with a grim smile.

Just then, Runespitter came up and spoke to Ragnok, who nodded his thanks, before turning to look at the others.

"Everyone, the shamans have calculated we have thirteen months, two weeks, two days and ten hours to live and learn together, before we have to be out of here for the Will reading."

Everyone nodded, except Harry, who was still staring at the sword in his hand.

"I _really_ like this," he said, pressing the button and whipping it around. "I wonder if Gryffindor's sword can do this?" He flailed about with it, but not being accustomed to the weapon, one of the blade fragments caught on his thigh and slashed him.

"Ow!" Harry yelped, dropping the sword and trying to hold the now profusely bleeding cut closed.

"Clearly, we have a long way to go, Mr. Potter," Ragnok murmured with a sigh, as a grinning Shack healed the wound.

Harry groaned. Today was proving to be a right pain in the posterior.

Hey guys! Are you happy? Are you not happy? How are your posteriors? Why don't you review and let me know. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I'll do my best not to delay the next one. _Jyamatane._


	9. There’s Gold in Them Thar Wills

**Chapter Nine: There's Gold in Them Thar Wills**

A/N: _TA DAH_! Hi everyone! It's great to hear/read so many of you liked my last update.

Many people commented on the whipsword, so I suppose I better let you know where you can learn about it, huh? Do either a _YouTube _or _Google_ search for 'Soul Calibur III Ivy' and you will find out about her and her weapon, or see how it is wielded.

Anyway, I'm going to yield to popular demand (and inevitable plot) and finally write about the Will reading, in case you didn't work it out!

I don't own the Harry Potter fandom or any of the characters, original plot, etc. All of that belongs to a woman named Rowling. I'm just using her stuff as a sushi ingredient.

Mentions of slash, multiple partners and other sexual innuendos abound, but not graphically. That's for elsewhere on the Intarwebz.

**Please note: I have a new one shot on my site – "Harry Gets His Gurg On!" – please read and, if you wish, review. Thanks!**

Have fun!

--}---

With a considerable degree of regret, Harry looked around the cave and considered just how far he had come, how much he had changed, how much he had learned in the last 13 months. Magic, fighting, law, estate management, languages - all this and more he and his companions had mastered, but now it was time to leave.

He watched as all of the goblins gathered together, as Ragnok, who had become much like Remus, an uncle of sorts, and Aksaki, who was everything he would expect a grandmother to be, walked together to the sealed door of the chamber and prepared to open it.

Hermione and Bill, hand in hand, were moving to join him, the giant Crookshanks padding silently at his Mistress's side. Charlie and Neville, laughing and joking together then sharing a quick kiss before donning their robes. Remus, who looked so much healthier now his lycanthropy had been mutated into something far less damaging, strode arm in arm with Kingsley towards the spot where Harry waited. Luna and Tonks each with a phoenix on their shoulders came up beside him and with a smile for each, he slipped his arms around their waists as Fred and George took a last flight around the lofty ceiling before landing and separating out from their animagus form. Seeing everyone else gathered near the door, the twins raced each other the length of the chamber, skidding to a halt amid a large shower of sand beside their bonded.

"Looking good guys," Harry said. "You seem to have really got the joining and separation of your form down to a fine art."

"At least you don't bang your heads together any more," Tonks commented.

"Although I do miss watching them trying to jointly co-ordinate two heads, two necks, two wings, four legs and a tail without everything trying to go off in different directions," Luna added.

Harry snorted. "Yeah, I'd never seen a dragon trip over its own feet before."

"We'll have you know," George said in a lofty tone.

"That we only ever did that," Fred added.

"To break the tension," George continued.

"And provide everyone with a bit of entertainment," Fred finished.

The other three stared at them for a long moment then burst out laughing.

"Oh well," Fred said to his brother, "It was worth a try."

Harry shook his head, still smiling, then turned to see that Ragnok had opened the doors and it was finally time for them all to leave. The humans let all the goblins move through the timelock first, then stepped into the smaller room where Ragnok awaited them, then he sealed the inner door, paused for a moment, then finally opened the outer door. After what had been a mere two days in the outer world but more than a year for them, Harry and his loved ones stepped into one of the corridors beneath Gringott's Bank, right beside the cart tracks.

Here the Director and the Shamaness left them, promising to rejoin them at the Will reading. All the goblins who had become their friends and teachers left in several of the waiting carts, leaving three waiting, and in the front one was Griphook. He looked at Harry with an expression of shock on his face that was remarkable, given goblins so rarely showed such a degree of emotion.

"Mr.… Potter," Griphook stuttered for a moment, looking so far up to his face, before regaining his composure. "Welcome back. I have instructions to take you…" he said, sounding vague.

"What's happening?" Harry asked, a little confused.

"I'll explain on the way, all aboard please," Griphook said, indicating the waiting carts. Harry and his Bonded got into one, Neville, Charlie, Hermione and Bill got into another and Remus and Kingsley got into the front cart with Griphook. The three carts set off like a small train into the tunnels.

"While you were all away, on Ragnok's orders, I have arranged for a Wizard Marriage Celebrant, the necessary Ministry paperwork, several documents linked to both the Black and Potter Wills, disguise bracelets and clothes to be assembled. You will have twenty-three minutes to complete all the various legal requirements, and to go through the ceremonies of your choice."

"The Celebrant is capable of all the options, including a Soul Bonding?" Luna asked and Griphook nodded.

"Indeed, Lady Potter. Also the Handfasting for a year and a day and the standard Wizarding marriage."

"How are you planning to hide the changes and aging we've had?" Hermione asked.

"A range of goblin-wrought bracelets, infused with numerous charms for disguise, others for hiding your increased power levels and several to conceal the bracelets themselves. Our staff use them when out in the human/Muggle world. Several staff will be on hand to fine-tune each bracelet to you individually, to provide the best concealment possible."

"Well, if it means Dumbledore, Snape and Tommy boy won't know what we've been up to, that's okay," Harry answered.

"As the magic is goblin, not even your beloved Merlin would be capable of noticing it," Griphook said proudly. "Speaking of which," he added, "no one has seen or heard from Dumbledore for a few days, and there is growing concern for his well-being."

"Interesting," Remus murmured. "I wonder what he's up to now?"

"The reporter Rita Skeeter is also missing," Griphook continued. "Not a word from her in a while either. When she turns up, she'll probably find her job lost and her bank vault going dry, but here in the bank, we don't really mind. That woman told the most horrid filth about us."

"You're not the only one," Harry muttered.

The ride continued up and up until, at last, they reached the top level. But where they got off was not the usual place where the carts were left to await their passengers, but at a small side stop. Griphook got out and the rest followed him. They went down a quiet corridor and then into a larger, slightly busier one. The only people there were goblins, and they took no notice of the group or even the new, improved Harry. Finally, they came to a pair of doors opening into a busy hall.

"I want you to follow me in small groups," Griphook explained. "We can't draw attention to you. I will go first with a few of you, then follow me in groups of three or four, to the room directly to our left, where everything is set up ready for you."

Without another word, he rounded up Tonks, Luna, Charlie and Neville and they walked at an angle across the busy hall. A few moments passed, then Remus, Shack and the twins crossed to the room. No one seemed to have noticed yet. Finally, Bill, Hermione and Harry crossed the hall. Harry did draw some attention, but on the whole, no one stopped to gape.

As they reached the other door, Hermione went in first, followed by Harry and then Bill. Just as Harry was entering, a voice called out behind them.

"Oh my God! Bill bloody Weasley! How the fuck are ya, mate?"

Bill turned to come face to face with one of his less well-known co-workers, Perry McTavish.

Perry made his way down the hall and tried to peer around the tall redhead, into the room, talking all the while, until Bill shoved him away, roughly enough that the garrulous man fell to the ground. With one foot Bill rolled him onto his back.

"Well, well, Perry McTavish. What the hell do you think you're doing here? Your security clearance isn't high enough for this area. You're not supposed to be here," Bill demanded.

Perry gave him a cheeky grin. "Sorry Bill, I took a wrong turn and when I saw you… well… I just couldn't control myself. Who were all those people, and that large guy with the long hair…" Perry quizzed, but was cut short when a large sword with a thick blade crossed his throat.

"Don't play twenty questions with me," Bill spat. "We might have worked in the same tomb several years ago, but it doesn't mean I either like or trust you. I'll be reporting your little out of bounds wander, McTavish. In fact, I'll make a point of it."

"Yeah, that'd be just your style, Weasley," Perry said, doing his best to ignore the sword and still be cocky with Bill.

"And I warn you now McTavish, if you breathe a word to anyone about our meeting here today, I will personally take you apart. Do I make myself clear?" Bill asked, his face awfully close to Perry's.

"Crystal," Perry answered in a whisper, suddenly realizing this was a new, lethal and humorless William Weasley.

Bill glared at him for another moment, stood up and put the sword away in its sheath. He turned and walked off without another word.

Rubbing his neck, Perry McTavish got to his feet, an ugly sneer on his face. "Bastard!" He muttered under his breath. He'd always hated the man, his skill, his nose for traps and treasure, how quickly he'd ascended the ranks, far outstripping all the other human employees. Well, he knew someone who'd be _very _interested in what he'd just seen, someone who paid well for such tidbits of information. He'd get some of his own back, or his name wasn't Perry McTavish!

As he scurried off, a small goblin left his bench and followed, whispering into a bracelet around his left wrist….

Returning to the room, Bill found all his compatriots dressed in black robes with hoods. Neville, Charlie and the Twins were off to one side with a witch in lavender robes, who was clearly taking the Longbottom Heir and the second eldest Weasley through the traditional Handfasting ceremony, Fred and George as witnesses.

Even as Bill watched, she waved her wand and a ring of golden flame bound the two young men's hands together, before vanishing as Charlie leaned forward and gently kissed his Chosen.

"Where were you?" Hermione asked quietly, her expression concerned.

"Just dealing with a colleague," Bill answered, equally quietly. Seeing the witch heading their way he smiled down at his beloved. "We're up, love," he said, taking her hand. "You ready for this?"

Her heart in her eyes, Hermione smiled back at him. "More than I can say, dear heart!"

"Hello, dears!" The witch said, cheerily. "I'm Geraldine Dibley and you must be William Weasley and Hermione Granger. A regular wizard marriage, with the optional Soul Bonding after the birth of your first child, correct?"

"Correct," they both said, and then laughed, taking each other's hands.

"Hang on!" Harry sang out. "I'm not missing being your witness, sis and big bro!"

On his way over, he grabbed Remus and pulled him along as the other signatory to the marriage.

It was done in a few minutes, sealed with a brilliant pulse of silver and purple magic surrounding the new husband and wife. Required documents were signed and then it was Remus and Kingsley's turn.

They chose the traditional magical marriage too, with a Soul Bond in a year and a day…and their choice was sanctified with a nimbus of cerulean and silver edged black flames.

There was a bit of squabbling over who would be their witnesses, but finally Harry and the new Mrs. Granger-Weasley won the impromptu 'Rock/Paper/Scissors' tournament and signed on the dotted witness lines.

Now, it was time for Harry and his Bonded to make it official.

A beaming Madam Dibley guided the five lovers through the stages of the more complex Soul Bonding ritual, even though, by necessity, it was a trimmed down version. With all the others gathered around, they exchanged vows, mingled their blood from cuts on their left palms, and finally raised their wands, tips touching, as the celebrant pronounced the Bonding.

"By the words of their mouths, the giving and receiving of their blood, the oaths of their hearts and the deepest desires of their souls, I, Geraldine Dawn Dibley, as the representative and channel of High Magic, do hereby Bond, for all time, in this world and all others, these five – Harry James Potter-Black, Luna Celeste Lovegood-Potter, George Fabian Weasley-Potter, Nymphadora Cassiopeia Tonks-Black and Frederick Gideon Weasley-Black! As they have stated, as I have witnessed – SO MOTE IT BE!"

With that, Madam Dibley touched her wand tip to the other five.

It began with a vibration, a rumble just below the audible level, felt in the bones and chest rather than heard. It built rapidly, first the entire chamber, then the whole of Gringott's shivering and groaning, as a massive pulse of magic roared outwards, causing all the bank's wards to become visible, the empowering rune stones glowing red hot throughout the structure and the cave complex beneath.

Deep underground, all the vaults were wreathed in swirling tongues of faerie fire, the track system glowing as if all the rails were burning strips of magnesium. In all parts of the building the marble walls pulsed and flexed, the floors rippled and the columns jiggled about like swaying dancers.

"Here it comes!" Remus bellowed over the incredible sound of magic building to a crescendo – and, experienced in such things, he and the others threw themselves onto the floor, Neville snagging the dazed celebrant and pulling her down beside them.

With a roar beyond description, in multihued tongues of raw power, a blindingly white ring of energy blasted outwards from the five newlyweds, passed through all intervening structures without damage, and into the wards, cleansing, purifying and doubling their strength and complexity.

As silence fell, the witnesses slowly sat up, their bodies tingling with the aftermath of power. Nothing in the room showed any sign of what had just happened.

Hey, cub! You're getting better at that blasting thing you do," Remus joked. "The bank's still standing!"

As a relief of tension, everyone laughed, and soon all the appropriate paperwork was signed, the Will matters discussed and the concealment bracelets fitted.

Bill touched the bracelet he had on, feeling no different. "Has it worked?" he asked.

"Kind of…" Hermione said, studying her husband from several different angles..

"Wasn't much to change," Fred added, "not like with Harry."

"Yeah, still the same old ugly mug that we're used to," George commented, grinning. Bill ignored them as he got changed into a set of acromantula silk robes in Weasley scarlet, then the featureless black robes everyone else had on.

"Please put the hoods up and follow me," Griphook said, and led the way from the room, Madam Dibley waving a tearful goodbye.

--}---

Alastor Moody was the first to admit he was a trifle wand-happy, and there had been times when he'd cursed first and asked questions later. He certainly agreed with the general consensus of just about the entire Wizarding world that he was, perhaps, just a little paranoid. However, Alastor had long believed that with a Dark Lord and all his happy little lunatics bobbing around, paranoia was the difference between life and death. Of course, that made it somewhat tense in certain social situations such as the one he now found himself.

The tension in the large chamber of Gringott's was tangible. You could have cut it with a feather, never mind a knife, Moody thought to himself, and given the current gathering, he felt he had every right to be more than a little paranoid as he was currently sitting cheek by jowl with bloody Narcissa Malfoy.

Moody caressed his wand and wondered if he could get in a vorpal severing charm before the Gringott's guards could stop him. But then, as if he'd read his mind, Eb Croaker tapped him on the elbow and gave a tiny shake of his head.

"Spoil all my fun," Moody muttered, but took his hand away from his wand as the corner of Croaker's mouth twitched.

"Maybe later," the Unspeakable muttered back without moving his lips.

That was a skill he'd always wanted, Moody thought, but had never found the time to master. Looking around the room, he could see Arthur and Molly Weasley sitting with Minnie McGonagall, Flitwick and Snape, behind them Amelia Bones, Augusta and the Grangers. The idiot Fudge, young Percy and the revolting Dolores Umbridge, who, Moody was horrified to note, was fluttering her eyelashes in his direction, were sitting on the far side of the Malfoys.

The only thing that prevented him from cursing her six ways to Sunday was the comforting thought that the DMLE and the Unspeakables were planning a joint raid on Umbridge Hall in three days time.

Of course, Fudge had seated himself next to Lady Malfoy and was pursuing a low voiced conversation with her, while her son, the snotty little doppelganger of his father if ever Moody had seen one, tapped his feet and looked around, clearly bored.

Moody watched as Odd Lovegood sidled in the door and sat right at the back of the room, parchment and quill in hand. For a moment, Moody wondered what had become of Rita Skeeter, as no one had heard or seen anything of her for several days. With a mental shrug, he dismissed her as irrelevant and instead wondered why his 'dear friend' Albus wasn't there.

Even as the thought crossed his mind, Croaker, again without moving his lips, said quietly "Where's the mighty Mugwump? Everyone else seems to be looking for him as well."

Moody gave a non-committal grunt and looked around, noting that many of those waiting appeared restless and kept glancing at the door.

At that moment, it opened to admit Albus Dumble… no, Moody realized, it was Aberforth. Several others sighed and sat back in their seats as they realized which Dumbledore brother had arrived.

"… can't understand what's happened to all the other boys," Molly Weasley's piercing tones reached Moody's ears and he grinned viciously to himself. Molly was going to be in for quite a shock he, and no doubt several others, would find very amusing.

Just then, the door opened again, causing several people to almost give themselves whiplash as they looked towards it, only to sigh irritably as Ron and Ginny Weasley entered and moved to take the seats their mother had kept vacant for them.

"Where's Harry?" Ron's voice was, in Moody's opinion, petulant and grating. Molly shushed him and pulled him down into his seat while Moody watched the youngest Weasley, noting her irritated expression and the way she flounced into her chair.

The tension in the room was even higher now, if that was possible; quite a number of people actually jumped when the doors behind the massive desk slammed open and three goblins, all richly dressed, entered. The first had his arms full of scrolls and official looking envelopes, the second carried a pensieve whilst the third carried a rectangular object covered in cloth. This he placed on a picture stand next to the desk. The goblins seated themselves and it appeared as if the Will reading was about to start, when, with an almighty crash, the doors all the waiting folk had entered through burst open, and a bizarre disheveled figure ran into the room, wand raised, a somewhat wild look in his eyes.

"_Stop everything!"_ He bellowed, and it was only at the sound of his voice everyone present realized the skinny bald old man in the ugly bath robe and bizarre gown, not to mention the canvas booties, was in fact the supreme Mugwump, Chief Warlock, Famous Wizards and Witches Card favorite and Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry - Albus Dumbledore.

The central goblin cleared his throat. "We have yet to begin, Professor Dumbledore, so please take a seat. We await Chief of Clan Chief, Director Ragnok and some few others."

Looking somewhat abashed, Albus did as he was instructed, seating himself beside Hagrid and shushing his three staff members as they tried to question him about his appearance and his whereabouts for the last two days.

The still standing goblin rapped his knuckles on the desk. "This reading will proceed shortly, as soon as the final attendees arrive," and he glanced to his left where a number of empty chairs waited. Even as he spoke, there was the sound of a group approaching the doors Dumbledore had partially destroyed in his precipitous entrance, and eleven human-sized cloaked figures and one shorter one entered, led by Griphook.

-}---

A cold soaking rain fell on Azkaban prison, cloaking the island in mist and a bitter dampness that permeated every nook and cranny of the prison complex. The warden, in his office, looked longingly at a cupboard where he kept his Firewhisky and wished for the umpteenth time he could have a drink.

It had been an unusually cold three weeks and the Dementors had been behaving more aggressively than usual, forcing he and his Auror troops to work double shifts so no guards were ever alone as they patrolled the cold clammy corridors.

The majority of Azkaban had been carved out of the island's rocky heart, with only a small wing of cells, an infirmary, the guards' quarters, the mess hall, his own cottage and the docking facilities on the surface.

Some of the subterranean cells had narrow windows that looked out through the cliff faces that stood sheer and impassable around seven eighths of the island's circumference. It had been through one of these their only escapee had made his escape.

For a long moment, the warden considered Sirius Black, then shook his head. More than twenty years' experience with the worst of the worst the British Wizarding World had to offer had made him doubt Black's guilt. But that was all water under the bridge and he had more important things to worry about.

Returning to his desk, he looked at the two letters he was writing, then sat down and picked up his quill. He pulled the left hand letter towards him, read what he'd written and then began a new paragraph.

'I cannot be more specific about the Dementors but I must say I believe they are preparing to breed. All the signs indicate this and as this has never been witnessed before, and they grow daily more aggressive, I am deeply concerned for the safety of myself and my people.

I don't know what you can do, but promise me Ebenezer, if the worst happens, you will watch over my beloved wife, children and grandchildren and, to the best of your considerable ability, insure their safety. I am fearful that even Hogwarts will not protect them for very much longer.

I cannot prove it, but I believe that the Dementors' behavior is being influenced in some way by You-Know-Who. The more agitated they become, the more smug Malfoy and his scum-sucking little friends become. I doubt this is a coincidence. I have no faith the Ministry will bestir themselves on our behalf, so although I once again write to C.F, I am resigned to what is coming.

I will end this here, as I wish to get this to you in time.

Your friend,

_Enrico Zabini.'_

Casting a quick drying spell, Zabini rolled the letter and magically sealed it, then he went to his office window where two large owls waited. He tied it to the leg of one, stroked its head gently and it nibbled his fingers.

"This is for Eb Croaker, you know where the letter drop is, please hurry."

The owl bobbed its head and leaped from the window ledge, flying off into the drizzling rain and the slowly darkening sky. Zabini returned to his desk and pulled the other letter towards him. The likelihood of anyone at the Ministry paying attention to this was remote, but he had to try.

'Again, Minister, I cannot emphasize enough how precarious our situation is. The Dementors have already attempted to Kiss three of my staff and it was only due to my foresight in having all my men work in pairs that prevented casualties.

As far as I can tell, the Dementors' effect on the prisoners has decreased, especially around those prisoners who bear the Dark Mark. From this, I have inferred that the Dementors' abnormally aggressive behavior is being influenced from beyond the island and I am deeply concerned that they will, at some time in the near future, overwhelm us by sheer numbers and defect to He-Who-must-Not-Be-Named.

_I implore you, Minister Fudge, to take action as a matter of emergency or I fear that my loyal men and I are doomed. _

Enrico Zabini, Warden.'

This letter he attached to the second owl and after it had flown off into the dusk, he stood looking out his window for several long minutes, before he shivered, pulling his robes closer about his neck.

He had the most terrible feeling he would not be seeing his beloved Lucia again.

--}---

Andromeda Black Tonks paused for a moment outside the room where her cousin's Will was to be read and carefully straightened her robes, before turning to her long-suffering spouse and straightening his for the umpteenth time, although he loved her enough not to point this out to her.

Certain they were respectable, Andi straightened her shoulders, opened the door and gracefully made her way within, knowing for a fact she would be under scrutiny from the moment she set her foot across the threshold.

She was not disappointed.

Even as she cast a searching look around the impressively large chamber, noting who was present, she detected motion from the corner of her eye - and there was her sister Narcissa, as coldly beautiful as ever, for all they had neither seen nor spoken to each other for over twenty years. Andi thought it was reasonable to assume the young blond man with her was her son and Andi's previously unseen nephew, Draco. He certainly looked like his father she thought, and not in any complimentary way.

She and Ted caught each other's eyes and barely managed not to choke over just how stuck up the little snot was. As they moved forward to take seats near the back of the room, Narcissa glided up the aisle as if she was about to block them from taking their places.

"Andromeda," the Malfoy Matriarch stated.

Andi grinned, "Very good Cissy," she said. "I see your eyesight is as keen as ever. So, this must be your son. How do you do Draco? I am your Aunt Andromeda, and this is my husband Ted," she said gesturing to the tall handsome man beside her.

Narcissa's expression would have curdled fresh milk, while Draco actually sneered.

"The Blood Traitor and the Mudblood," he spat.

As much the prejudiced camel as his father, Andi thought, amused. Before Narcissa could say or do anything, Draco made a muffled gagging cough, and foam, heavily scented with lavender, spewed from his mouth.

Ted grinned. "You know, naughty little boys using foul language deserve to get their mouths washed out with soap," the Muggleborn wizard said calmly, before sketching a half-bow at the red-faced Narcissa. "Delighted to meet you," he said politely, "and, of course, your charming, well bred son. Now if you'll excuse us," and with that, he took his hiccupping wife by the elbow and led her away so she could seat herself and have a quiet fit of hysterical giggles into her wadded up hanky.

Narcissa had no option but to drag a frothing, furious Draco back to their seats where a series of '_Aquamenti'_ and _'Evanesco'_ charms, followed by some extensive drying charms, resolved the situation, if not either of their tempers.

During this by-play, the Goblins had finished their preparations at the head table and now the doors through which the group of hooded gusts had entered opened again to admit twenty heavily armed goblin guards who took up positions around the chamber, then five younger goblins all bearing black velvet cushions, on which sat five small caskets, and after them, clad in his preferred purple velvet, came Ragnok. The five caskets were put on the table and Ragnok took his place in the central seat before picking up a small gavel and banging it three times for silence.

"Gentle-beings all, you are gathered here for the reading of the final Will and Testament of Sirius Orion, Hereditary Grimlord and Patriarch of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. Let the chamber be sealed until such time as this reading is complete."

As he said this, the guards adjacent to the doors put heavy bars in place and several rune stones on each bar and the doors themselves flashed as they activated. With a flick of his fingers, Ragnok magically pulled the covering off what had obviously been a portrait, to reveal an image of the Black Library at Grimmauld place, Sirius sitting in the deep leather armchair in front of the fire, a book in his hands, a glass of Firewhisky on the table by his side.

"Lord Black, we are ready to proceed," Ragnok stated, and Sirius got to his feet moving forward and looking out into the chamber.

"Oh good! I see you're all here. By all means Ragnok, lets get this show on the road."

Ragnok cleared his throat as he lifted a heavy scroll, untied the black ribbon around it and broke the seal which released a flash of magical energy. Unrolling it, he again cleared his throat and began to read.

'_I, Sirius Orion….'_

"Hem hem."

Ragnok paused, glanced up at his audience, frowned, and again started reading.

'_Current Patriarch of…'_

"HEM HEM!"

"Oh for Merlin's sake, will someone _please_ give that woman a cough drop!" Minerva McGonagall snapped.

Dolores Umbridge glared at the Hogwarts Deputy Headmistress, even as Ragnok, once again raised the Will.

'_The Most Ancient and…'_

"HEM-HEM!"

"Right! That does it!" Minerva declared, and it seemed that several others agreed with her.

The squat, pink-clad form of the Under-Secretary to the Minister disappeared under a roaring cascade of various cough drops that poured down upon her, completely burying her, before spreading for some considerable distance across the floor in all directions.

It took Percy and Fudge a good couple of minutes to extract a very disheveled, but pleasantly Eucalyptus scented, Dolores Umbridge from beneath the mountain of medicated confectionary.

Needless to say, it also took several minutes and much pounding with his gavel for a suspiciously coughing Ragnok to regain control of the meeting, choosing to completely ignore the various witches and wizards surreptitiously putting their wands away.

"As I was saying," he began, but stopped as an irate and puffed up Cornelius Fudge strode down the aisle towards the table, accompanied by loud crunching noises from the numerous candies he crushed underfoot.

Then he apparently trod on one more resilient than most that slid out from under his foot like a greased hockey puck, leaving the Minster for Magic's arms windmilling frantically in an effort to regain his balance, only to be 'rescued' by Percy, except that he too slipped on several of the lozenges and crashed, face first, into Fudge's buttocks.

Both of them crashed onto the floor, Weasley's head stuck between the Minister's pin-stripped trouser-clad thighs.

"Oi! Perce!" One of the cloaked figures shouted in the unmistakable voice of Charlie Weasley. "Keep the advanced brown-nosing private, thanks mate! There are ladies present."

The following laughter was raucous, and Percy's face was several shades darker than his hair by the time he got himself and the extremely flustered Minister back on their feet, where they were joined by Umbridge who was clutching several ancient looking scrolls.

Ragnok looked up at Fudge and barely restrained the urge to roll his eyes. "What is it that you want Minister Fudge?" he asked, as calmly as possible.

"Ah, yes, well," Fudge began before taking a firmer grip on the rim of his somewhat battered lime green bowler hat. "There's no real point in continuing with this reading, as I, Cornelius Oswald Fudge, duly elected Minister for Magic, am claiming the entirety of the Black Estate for the Ministry."

At this point, he glared at all the muttering audience and raised his voice. "Pursuant to the treaty of 1138, article seventeen, paragraph two, subsection six. '_any Noble, Ancient and Noble or Most Ancient and Noble House, who's last ruling member dies without lawful issue, has their estate revert to the Ministry for disbursement as per the Minister's discretion, and…,_" he now shouted over the chorus of angry voices, "FROM THE TREATY OF 1472, ARTICLE THREE, PARAGRAPH FOUR, SUBSECTION SEVEN, ANY SOLE REMAINING HEIR OF A HOUSE FOUND GUILTY OF CRIMES REQUIRING MORE THAN FIVE YEARS INPRISONMENT WILL HAVE ALL THEIR ESTATE CONFISCATED BY THE MINISTRY FOR SUITABLE DISBURSEMENT BY THE MINISTER."

At this point, all the people in cloaks were on their feet and shouting with everyone else, their hoods pulled down to reveal Harry and his loved ones, which enlisted several cries of surprise, shock and demands for his attention from various members of the audience, all of which he ignored as Ragnok vigorously wielded his gavel and demanded quiet. This was finally achieved, and into the well of silence, portrait Sirius' voice dropped like an ice covered stone.

"So, Fudge, think you've been real clever don't you? You sanctimonious, puffed up, little toe rag. Let me, guess, you didn't manage to find all this troll dung on your own, did you?"

The Minister, looking more and more like a pouter pigeon with severe dyspepsia, struck what he no doubt assumed was a masterful, authoritive pose.

"My staff was more than capable of discovering what was necessary…"

"And legal," Percy Weasley interjected.

"And legal," Fudge repeated with a firm nod of his head. "So just pack everything up, give me the papers to sign and we'll be off."

"I wouldn't be so certain of that Minister," Harry said quietly. "You see, there are just a couple of small facts your research team appear to have overlooked."

He stepped towards Fudge, pulled aside his robe and unbuttoned his shirt. "Look carefully Fudge. I'm taller, my features are now clearly defined as a combination of my birth parents and my adoptive father Sirius Black, and here, I have the crest of House Black tattooed as per the requirements of the Blood Adoption Ritual. I am Sirius Orion Black's son by Blood, Law and Magic. So you see, he does have an heir, and that's me."

Dragging his eyes away from the glittering metallic tattoo and up to Harry's face, for the boy was now taller than he was, Fudge got a good look at a pair of stormy tri-colored eyes. It was true, whereas before the Potter he remembered had been short and scrawny with the green eyes of his mother, the young man before him was six foot tall, with a healthy, athletic build, while his previous similarity to James Potter had been overlaid with the more hawkish nose and cheekbones and the slight cleft in his chin that were classic features of the members of House Black.

Stumbling back several steps from the anger in those eyes, Fudge trod on Dolores' foot, making her yelp and him jump like a startled rabbit. "Ah… yes… um… well… um… alright then," he stuttered before Umbridge's poisonously sweet girlish tones cut through his jumbled speech.

"Perhaps, Minister," she simpered "that resolves the issue of an heir, but not the fact that Black was a convicted criminal and mass murderer. You may still claim the Black Estate because of that."

Portrait Sirius gave a burst of bark-like laughter. "Oh, Umbitch, you are so out of luck," he chortled. "I was never tried or convicted of squat. Barty Crouch Senior and that bitch Bagshott were so convinced of my guilt they simply had me chucked in Azkaban, no hearing, no trial, no Veritaserum, no nothing."

"Bu…bu…but that's…" Percy began, as both Umbridge and Fudge simply stood with their mouths hanging open.

"I see no need to continue with this," Ragnok commented. "If you, Minister, and your minions, would care to retake your seats, I shall proceed with the reading of this LEGAL and BINDING Will."

'…_Noble House of Black, and am sound in mind and body, do hereby declare this is my ONLY Will, and should any other be found or presented, they are to be investigated as fraudulent and dealt with accordingly. _

_I do hereby declare I have adopted Harry James Potter as my only legal and magical heir, according to the rites first put down by Rowena Ravenclaw and he shall henceforth be known as Harry James Potter-Black. _

_As he has attained his sixteenth birthday, I am declaring him an emancipated adult. He is therefore to be presented with the Signet of my Forefathers, and, on its acceptance of him, he will become Patriarch of both the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, and also the Patriarch of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter. _

_All documentation and necessary rituals have been witnessed and all appropriate paperwork submitted. If there is any who believes they have a greater claim, let them face the Signet of my Forefathers and accept its judgment accordingly.'_

At this, clearly expecting it, Ragnok lowered the document and turned to look at Draco Malfoy, who was already on his feet, mouth open. "I gather, Mr. Malfoy, you wish to challenge?" He asked.

Draco stepped past his mother's feet and strode down the aisle towards the table. "Seeing as how that half-blood scum Potter doesn't deserve such a great, Pureblood title, I demand that you give me the ring and publicly declare me Lord Black," the blond demanded.

Harry, clad in midnight blue robes trimmed in both black and dark green, the Potter and Black coats of arms embroided on the left hand side of the front panel, stepped up beside his school yearmate.

"Ah, Bad Faith," he said, smiling with little real amusement. "Feel free to have the first shot. After all, shit before the shovel!"

The Malfoy heir gave him a look of hatred and disgust, to which Harry only smiled a little more. "I demand the right to test the ring," Draco snarled, "and I will prove that I am the true Black Heir."

Imperiously, he extended his left hand and after a glance at Harry, who nodded, Ragnok flipped open the heavy silver casket on the right hand most cushion before picking it up and offering it to Malfoy. Nestled in black velvet were five rings, the Head of House signet, the Spouse's ring, the Heir Primus ring and a pair of wedding bands.

Malfoy reached out, snatching up the Signet, but before placing it on his right ring finger, he glanced at it and a thunderous scowl twisted his face.

"What rubbish is this, you goblin scum?" He bellowed, waving the ring in Ragnok's impassive face. "This isn't the Signet of House Black. What is this?"

Ragnok stared at the young wizard with such implacable disgust Malfoy actually took a step back from the table.

"That, _Mr. Malfoy_ is the original Black Signet, made in AD 982 by the Founder of the House, Edmund Black, and worn by his descendants until 1506 when Castor Black, his wife Emillia Hufflepuff and their unborn child were assassinated, in all probability on the orders of Castor's younger twin, Pollux, who was married to one of the last two descendants of Slytherin, Griselda Slytherin-Black. It would not accept Pollux, nor was he able to destroy it, so he created his own ring, which was subsequently passed to his heirs.

However, Sirius Orion was, for the first time in many generations, accepted by the original Signet, and ordered the replacement destroyed. Every Heir since Pollux has tried the original Signet and failed to be accepted. As it descends from the Founder of the House and is more powerful in magic, it superseded the secondary signet, now destroyed. Do you choose to proceed with the test?"

"Of course I do, you fool," Malfoy snapped, and without further ado, thrust the ring onto the middle finger of his left hand, next to his Heir Primus ring.

For a moment, nothing happened and Draco began to grin, his heart swelling with victory. Then…

"NNYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" he shrieked, as the ring flashed red hot, shrinking inexorably.

Smoke poured from Draco's hand as the ring and the burnt off finger fell to the floor with a clink. Draco was now curled up in a little ball on the floor clutching his maimed hand and howling.

Harry, looking a trifle green, bent down and picked up the ring, shaking out Draco's amputated finger onto the floor, surprised to find the metal band cool to the touch. Straightening up, he studied it. Fashioned of heavy silver, the band was a seven strand Celtic knot-work and set in the top between two molded Grim heads was the first black diamond he had ever seem. Cut deeply into the surface was a crossed wand and sword, a five pointed star at the top and a tiny phoenix beneath. It was a beautiful piece of workmanship and with barely a moment's hesitation, Harry placed it upon his right hand ring finger.

There was another breathless moment where nothing happened, then again the ring flashed with light, only this time, resizing itself to fit Harry's finger, a pulse of silver energy flowing up and over his entire body and he felt a sharp burning sensation on his chest where the tattoos of the family crests had been placed.

Hastily pulling aside his robe and shirt, he saw the Black crest which he now knew to have come from Pollux Black had changed to match the image on the ring and underneath, instead of the Black motto 'Always Pure,' it now read 'Toujours Pur de Coeur.' Seeing this, Harry grinned. With his rudimentary French, he knew this said 'Always Pure of Heart,' a motto he could live by.

Whilst he had been trying on the ring, a pair of goblin guards had scooped Malfoy up and dumped the still whimpering teen back in his seat beside his mother, who cast some basic healing spells on his hand but otherwise ignored him.

"Woo-hoo, way to go Harry!" Portrait Sirius cheered, jumping up and down and punching his fist in the air. "I knew you could do it son," he said, tears running down his painted cheeks.

Harry, tears in his own eyes, grinned at the exuberant portrait. "Thanks… Dad." He said, and Sirius immediately stopped leaping around and appeared to actually lean against the inside of the varnish over the painting's surface, as if he could force his way through it and into the room.

"Harry," he choked out, but Harry shook his head.

"Later Dad, when we've got some privacy."

Portrait Sirius nodded slowly and stood back, but refused to wipe away his tears as he looked upon his adopted son with complete love and respect. His voice scratchy, he asked Ragnok to continue with the Will reading.

Ragnok cleared his throat, and immediately all the whispering in the audience died away, and he again raised the Will.

'_As I believe my adopted son, Harry James, will be accepted by the family Signet, I hereby state he is to receive all of the Black estate - properties, monies, investments and vaults - with the exception of the following bequests._

_To my beloved friend Remus John Lupin, I leave the sum of 500,000 galleons, Black Island, which as he knows is in the English Channel, the Black property there with all its contents, and there is a letter for him he is to read in private. Moony, if you have been foolish enough to reject Kingsley, I will come back from the dead long enough to box your ears. And for Merlin's sake, please buy some new robes, you look like a scruff! _

_Next, to my dear cousin Nymphadora, and no, you can't hit me, so _pthhhhhbbt_! I leave the sum of 500,000 galleons and a certain wizard who shall at this time remain nameless, nudge, nudge, wink wink._

_To Arthur, who is without a doubt the most upright and honest man I know, I leave the sum of 500,000 galleons and my wish for a happy life. Arthur, I have left a letter for you also, please read it in private._

_To William and Charles Weasley, I leave 250,000 galleons each, and strongly suggest they go back to Egypt and Romania whilst they still can._

_To Percy Weasley, I leave a lifetime supply of breath mints and moist towellets, for cleaning up after all the arse-kissing and bootlicking he seems to be addicted to. _

_To Fredrick and George Weasley, I leave the sum of 250,000 galleons, several note books written by Messrs Prongs, Moony and Padfoot, plus my fifty percent shares in _Zonko's_. I have also set up a vault with 250,00 galleons in it that is to be used exclusively for the development of arms and armor for those who will be forced to fight the little snake-buggering bastard, Voldemort. Be vicious boys, Merlin knows, he is. _

_To Alastor Mad-Eye Moody, I leave a rather bizarre collection of wooden legs I found in the back of the Black Vault. Apparently, one of my ancestors lost a limb to a rather cantankerous Red Cap. Several of them are magical, several of them are cursed, and many of them are made of rather expensive substances. Enjoy them my old friend, and remember, CONSTANT VIGILANCE!' _

Ragnok's eyebrows threatened to crawl up into his hair as well over half of those present bellowed Moody's famous catch phrase along with him, including Sirius' portrait, before almost everyone broke out into laughter.

'_To Odd Lovegood, who's publication has given me many hours of amusement and thought provoking reflection, I leave 100,000 galleons and a new magical printing press that will be delivered according to your instructions. Consider this a gift from Stubby Boardman.' _

"Don't forget the picture," Sirius sang out, and Ragnok gestured to a young goblin who uncovered a framed copy of the story of Stubby that had been printed in the Quibbler and handed it to Odd who gave Sirius a thumbs up.

Ragnok once again raised the Will and took up where he had left off.

'_To Luna Lovegood, I leave a property in Norway where I have been reliably informed there is a small heard of breeding Snorkaks, as well as numerous other local magical fauna and flora. I know they will flourish under your care. _

_To Minerva McGonagall, Filius Flitwick and Rubeus Hagrid, I leave you each 250,000 galleons and several dozen bottles of wine and spirits from the Black cellars. Try not to get too drunk. At your age, it's a bad idea. Mind you, my memories of a certain tipsy kitty staggering around the Great Hall will keep me warm in the great beyond.'_

"SIRIUS!" Minerva exclaimed, blushing furiously. "You said you'd never tell anyone about that."

"Hey! I lied," Sirius said from the portrait. "So kill me!"

Speaking over the resulting laughter, Ragnok continued.

'_To Hermione Granger - dear girl, I beg you, please readjust your aim amongst the Weasley males, as the one you currently have your sights set on is in no way worthy of you. However, one of the others certainly is. To you I leave the Black Library as you are eminently suited to research all the needs of Fred and George, and the rest of those who support Harry in his endeavors to destroy the Snake Buggerer. I have not removed any volumes so do be aware some books will be cursed. Get Bill and Remus to help you. This is deliberate on my part as you need to know your enemy. _

_To Neville Longbottom, I leave the sum of 50,000 galleons and an appointment with Oberon Ollivander for your own wand. And Gussy, before you get your vulture in a twist, just remember - Frank had no luck using his father's wand, and it's way past time for Neville to get his own. _

_Aberforth Dumbledore, you old reprobate you, I considered buying you a flock of pure-bred Nubian goats, but realized this could be misinterpreted, so instead, I'm giving you, Oberon Ollivander, Florian Fortesque and Ebenezer Croaker 50,000 galleons each and tickets for a world cruise on a Muggle sailing vessel, the Queen Victoria II, where you will be waited on hand and foot, sailing the high seas for six months. I'm sure the four of you will find plenty to occupy yourselves…just try not to fall overboard._

_And finally, Albus blah blah blah Dumbledore, Supreme blah blah blah. I have for you a small casket, in which is a symbol of my true feelings towards you and embodies the degree of respect and trust I have for you.' _

At this point, Ragnok stopped reading and gestured to a goblin, who picked up the left-hand most casket off the table and carried it to Dumbledore. Albus examined the lap-sized wooden and iron-bound box, then touched it with his wand to open it.

Coughing and retching, he shoved the open casket off his lap, half rising to his feet and stumbling backwards over his chair legs, even as everyone sitting around him did the same.

Portrait Sirius was hooting with laughter. "There you go, you sanctimonious old bastard. All my robes and socks that I wore in Azkaban for the ten glorious years you knowingly condemned me, an innocent man, to that hell-hole."

By this time, the stench of the revolting garments had spread to the entire room and several goblin guards, using only the ends of their spears, gingerly picked up the items and dropped them back into the casket, shutting it and cutting off the stench. Every witch and wizard present cast freshening charms whilst Abe helped _'Scourgify'_ his brother, grateful Albus no longer had his long beard to vomit into.

Once calm was again restored, Ragnok continued reading.

'_Thus is completed the section of personal disbursements, it is now necessary for my Heir to sign the bottom of this document then read two codicils I have prepared.'_

Ragnok laid the Will on the table and gestured towards Harry, who came forward but flinched at the sight of the blood quill a goblin assistant was holding out towards him.

"I regret, Lord Potter-Black that this document must be signed this way, but it is the law," Ragnok explained. So, with a sigh, Harry picked up the blood quill and quickly signed his name, enduring the painful sting on the back of his left hand. Immediately he was finished, the Will flashed bright gold and two smaller documents appeared. He picked up the first and read through it, a decidedly evil grin appearing on his face as he glanced at Sirius, who nodded, an equally unpleasant smile on his painted face. Turning around. Harry began to read out loud.

_I, Harry James, Patriarch of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, do hereby dissolve the marriage of Bellatrix Black Lestrange to Rodolphus Lestrange, for their betrayal of the House by enslaving themselves to Tom Marvolo Riddle, the self-styled Lord Voldemort. Furthermore, I reclaim all dowry entitlements, monies, investments, objects and interest due to the aforesaid annulment. _

_Furthermore, Bellatrix Black is cast out of the Black Family and has no right to the Black name, as she was directly responsible for the death by illegal means of the previous Patriarch, Sirius Orion, she is therefore anathema and nameless. As bloodprice for her actions, that resulted in the willful murder of Sirius Orion, I claim ALL contents of the Lestrange Vaults and in due course, will take from her her life, so say I, Harry James Potter-Black. So Mote it be.' _

Having finished reading the codicil, he turned back to the desk and again with the blood quill, signed at the bottom and picked up the second. With a downright malicious grin, he turned to look at Narcissa and Draco, and began to read.

'_I, Harry James, Patriarch of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black do hereby annul and declare void the marriage of Narcissa Black Malfoy to Luscious-I-mean _Lucius _Abraxis Malfoy, as she has taken the mark of servitude from Tom Marvolo Riddle. I also cast her out of the Black family for the same reason and that to have gained this Mark she, like all Death Eaters, has committed murder and torture of innocents, both magical and Muggle. She shall be Narcissa Noname from this time forth. Furthermore, Her child, Draco Lucius, can apply for reinclusion in the family of Black if he is unmarked by Voldemort and willing to take unbreakable vows of loyalty and neutrality.' _

Here, Harry paused reading and looked at the two, now nameless, people. "Lets just have a look at that, shall we?" He said chirpily, and with a single wave of his wand, vanished the left sleeves of Narcissa and Draco's clothes. "Oh, oops," he said with a smirk. "Looks like it's Draco Noname,"

Before either of them could reach for a wand, they found themselves with goblin blades at their throats and both froze in their seats. Only their murderous expressions telling Harry just how much they wanted him dead. He flipped the parchment and continued reading.

'_Because of the annulment, I reclaim the entire dowry - items, monies, investments and interest - and whilst I am unable to directly claim any of the Malfoy estate, any part of it that has been purchased or modified through the use of said dowry shall be sold and the portions that are established to be of the dowry will be returned to the Black Vaults. As I, Harry James Potter-Black have spoken, so shall it be.'_

Again, he signed the document and handed it to Ragnok. Before Ragnok could declare the reading ended, Sirius cut in.

"Before you all go folks, there are a couple of final things I need to say, and a couple of things Harry, my son, needs to do. First off, could you please bring Andi and Dora back into the family?"

Harry nodded. "Of course Dad. I Harry James, Patriarch of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black reinstate you, Andromeda Black Tonks, and your daughter, Nymphadora Tonks Black into the Black family. I also hereby grant you a 1,000,000 galleon dowry and personally look forward to getting to know you and your husband better."

"And we you, Harry," Andromeda said with a smile.

"Back to you Sirius," Harry said, turning to face the portrait.

"Right!" Sirius said. "Ragnok, if you would please open the second casket."

Ragnok complied and turned it to face Harry. Inside the gold box, on crimson velvet, lay the Potter Signet, the Heir Primus ring, the Spouse Ring and two wedding bands. With tears in his eyes, Harry picked up the heavy gold band and looked at the gold griffin surrounded by flawless rubies. With a feeling of intense joy mixed with equally intense grief, Harry slid the ring onto the third finger of his left hand, where it promptly resized itself with a pulse of golden light that tingled through him from head to toe.

"Excellent pup. Now, Ragnok, the next one."

This was another golden casket, but much older in design and when Ragnok opened it, the image of a Griffin wreathed in fire floated up out of it and hovered in the air for a moment to the 'ooh's' and 'aah's' of the audience.

"The ring of Godric Gryffindor," Ragnok intoned.

"NO!" Fudge exclaimed. "No! That can't be right!"

The goblin's leader stared at the Minister for Magic. "The Potter line," he said, "descends from Gryffindor's eldest daughter Eleanor who married Amalric Potter. He is also through the Black Line, related to Gryffindor through the marriage of Edmund Black to Godric's only niece, Rachelle. All the male lines have been scattered and lost, only these two remain directly linked. He has also, in the past, wielded Gryffindor's blade and has therefore earned the right to attempt the ring."

The goblin glanced at Harry. "If you would please, Lord Potter-Black."

With great reverence, Harry reached into the golden casket and withdrew a ring of red gold, set with a large topaz in which a griffin carved from ruby had been set. He placed this on the middle finger of his left hand and an immediate sense of awareness swept through him, through his mind, his heart, his soul, then the ring, with a gentle pulse of warmth, developed a perfect fit.

"He has been accepted," Ragnok proclaimed. "He is the Heir of Gryffindor."

Harry, looking out on the crowd saw that, for the most part, people appeared very happy for him, although there were a few exceptions. Fudge, Umbridge and Percy of course, Narcissa and Draco naturally, Ron was bright red and looking as if he was about to explode whilst Dumbledore had the appearance of someone had bitten into a most sour persimmon. Sighing to himself, Harry realized there were no surprises there.

"Now, just one last thing," Sirius said loudly, attracting everyone's attention. "The last casket please Ragnok,"

This was a heavy and beautifully made one of platinum, and Ragnok held it out to Harry. "You will need to use the language of serpents, Lord Potter-Black."

Harry looked at him cock-eyed, then down at the top of the casket, on which was modeled the head of a cobra, hood flared wide. #Open,# he hissed, ignoring the murmuring from those watching, as the casket popped open. Inside, nestled in green velvet was a platinum ring shaped like a serpent and set with a beautifully facetted emerald. The band, on closer examination, showed every one of the snake's scales had tiny runic markings on them, and somehow Harry knew this was all in Parseltongue.

As he held it in his hands, he felt the presence an intelligence in the ring, not nearly as warm as the one from the Gryffindor ring but certainly not evil. It had a weight to it and was immensely powerful, but Harry felt no fear of it. Without a second thought, he slid the ring onto the middle finger of his right hand.

The snake that made up the band shivered then slithered round and round his finger, hissing softly in Parseltongue and as it did, Harry felt the presence move through him. #_Yessss,_# a voice murmured in his head, #_yessss, you will do. You may have the heart of a Gryffindor, but you have the soul of a Slytherin. I claim you as surely as you claim me.# _There was a flash of green light and the ring fit perfectly.

"Behold," Sirius said, a most evil grin on his face. "The true Heir of Slytherin!"

--}---

A/N: Are you like, freaked out now or what? Who wants more? Who NEEDS more? What am I asking, of course you do. Back soon, so stay on the edge of your seats and don't fall off! (Giggles). And don't forget, while waiting for the next chapter to read, go take a gander at _**"Harry Gets His Gurg On!"**_ found in my list of stories.

Jya, Domo!


	10. I Demand a Paternity Test!

A/N: Hi-ho everybody! No, your eyes are not deceiving you, this is indeed a new chapter.

It's time to come clean - there are in fact two of us writing this story, so it's sometimes very difficult to co-ordinate our schedules to do any actual writing. Our screen name is derived from our two internet names. Shinobi is from _**shikishinobi**_, aka _**shikiblade**_, and karasu (crow) is from _**morriganscrow**_. So this is our cyber baby, and we are, at present, neglectful parents.

Since our last update, the dreaded _Real Life_ meant writing had to take a back seat.

Well, that's not entirely true. _**Shikiblade **_has begun a new story (still WIP) that we will begin posting very soon. As for who, what, where and when; wait and see. Keep an eye on our profile and this new story should appear in the near future.

It is also time to announce that this story, as you have come to accept anyway, is going to be abandoned, but we still have a few plans for it before that happens.

Now, finally, here we are, under the same roof, albeit briefly, and bringing you the next chapter of our story.

We don't own Harry Potter - J. does. We're just practicing kendo on it.

This story is A.U big-time, with HP/LL/NT/GrW/FW, BW/HG, NL/CW, RL/KS, which means slash, but not graphically, and this chapter has minor violence, gore, sarcasm, Ron and Ginny abuse and sundry other unpleasantness.

You have been warned.

-}-

**Chapter 10: I Demand a Paternity Test!**

To say Sirius had caught everyone's attention was an understatement. Complete silence reigned for perhaps half a minute, then total bedlam broke out.

Harry, white faced, had no idea quite what to think. It was as if all the pain and fear of second year swamped him again in a giant tidal wave, all the hissing comments, the hatred, the fear in the eyes of his school mates, Hermione lying mute and frozen on a bed...it was like he was reliving it all over once more.

Almost lost in his memories, he started violently as four sets of arms wrapped around him. Four beloved voices spoke his name, and reassurance, the warm, familiar scent of his wives and husbands cocooned him, driving away the shadows of his past.

Incredibly grateful, he clung to Luna and Tonks while Fred and George guarded the three of them and it was only when a piercing whistle cut through the shouts and curses that Harry truly pulled himself back into the moment.

Remus Lupin had his thumb and forefinger in his mouth and gave another whistle before looking around the room.

"Right, that's enough. All of you are behaving like a pack of Erumpents in rut. Everybody needs to sit down and shut up so Sirius can explain his statement."

Abruptly the werewolf whipped out his wand and pointed it at, of all people, Ron Weasley, who was bright red in the face and had just taken a big breath in preparation to saying something no doubt thoughtless and ill-considered.

"I would strongly recommend, Mr. Weasley, that you think very carefully before you say anything even remotely offensive to Harry." The end of the wand moved an inch or two to the left. "And that goes for you too, Molly. Both of you sit and shut it or I will hex your mouths off."

The two red-heads in question took one look at Lupin's expressionless face but practically glowing eyes and both sat down promptly. However, the mutinous expressions indicated the likelihood of them remaining silent for any length of time was unlikely.

While Remus had been heading off a Weasley explosion, several other individuals had moved to deal with other potential sources of unpleasantness.

Narcissa and Draco found themselves facing Moody and Croaker's wands, unaware that Andi and Ted Tonks had silently moved across behind them and were covering them from the rear.

Hagrid had used the uproar to cover his grabbing the Grangers and plonking them in seats next to Odd Lovegood, right up the back so he could then stand between them and any magical attacks.

As he did so, Amelia Bones and Augusta Longbottom exchanged a look that had the Dowager Longbottom surreptitiously move closer to the back of Albus Dumbledore's chair so she could rest the tip of her wand right between the Mugwump's bony shoulder-blades, while Amelia went to Moody's side and smiled grimly at the irate, but currently silent, Malfoys.

Dumbledore had carefully drawn his wand and was bringing it to bear on Harry when a slim hand reached across him and snatched it from his fingers. Completely at a loss for words, he turned to look at the smiling face of his deputy.

"Don't worry Albus, you'll get your wand back once all the kerfuffle dies down," Minerva murmured, tucking the wand carefully into her sleeve, secretly amused by the gob-smacked expression on the Headmaster's face.

Meanwhile, Severus Snape felt the unmistakable sensation of a wand tip being jabbed forcibly into his ribs.

"I really wouldn't move too much at the moment," Filius Flitwick said to him pleasantly, "because if you so much as twitch, I'll banish your lungs to Hogsmeade."

Knowing what he did of the Charms Master's history as an internationally ranked dueler, Snape decided his best option was to sit still.

In the center of the room, Cornelius Fudge and his two toadies suddenly found themselves at the ends of half a dozen wands and at least as many goblin pikes, and collectively sank back into their seats, painfully swallowing the remaining questions and comments they had.

Silence restored, Ragnok cleared his throat. "Do you wish to explain, Lord Black, or shall I?"

Sirius waved a magnanimous hand. "By all means dear sir, pray continue," he said, before dropping gracelessly into his painted armchair and picking up his glass of firewhisky.

The goblin glanced at Harry and his friends. "Please take your seats, Lord Potter-Black-Gryffindor, and I shall make clear why you are truly the magical and legal heir of Salazar Slytherin." Seeing Harry shudder he grinned toothily. "I wish to make it very clear that Harry only became Slytherin's heir at the time of Sirius Black's death. Prior to that, the true heir had been Sirius himself."

"That's a lie!" Draco Malfoy shouted, attempting to leap to his feet, only to have Ted Tonks grab him by the scruff of the neck and slam him back down into his seat. Ragnok didn't even bother glancing at the furious teen.

"In fact, Mr. Malfoy, it is the truth," he said. "The one called Voldemort, who's true name is Tom Marvolo Riddle, had indeed been the heir of Slytherin until the night of Halloween, 1981, when, on attempting to murder Harry Potter, his body was destroyed by his own curse rebounding on him. At the death of his physical form, he ceased to have any blood or magical link to the genetic line of Slytherin. That his soul remained disembodied in this world is irrelevant. The vehicle, the physical link to the Gaunt family through his mother Merope, was gone. Because of this, the title reverted to a secondary line, descended not from Slytherin's first born son, Balthazar, but from his second son, Elizar."

The goblin paused for a moment and looked around at his now eerily silent audience.

"Salazar's first wife was a pureblood Breton witch who filled her son's head with all the pureblood prejudices and baseless sense of entitlement that group is known for, dying when he was 12. Soon after, Slytherin remarried - a niece of Gryffindor's, and their son was born ten months later. Sadly, his second wife died when Elizar had just started at Hogwarts. At this time, Balthazar started turning his father towards the pureblood beliefs with such a degree of success, that when Elizar was 16, Slytherin and Gryffindor had their historical falling out. Father and eldest son fled from Britain but Elizar refused to go and on completing his education, he changed his name."

The goblin smiled, grimly amused. "Elizar Slytherin became Edmund Black."

"Merlin's hairy balls!" Arthur Weasley exclaimed, and then jumped as Molly viciously elbowed him in the ribs.

"Fascinating," Croaker murmured, garnering a most sarcastic smirk from Moody.

"This is preposterous!" Fudge blustered, waving his hands. "None of this is on record at the Ministry!"

"Yes, well, you don't have access to either the Black family library or the Black family tapestry," Sirius drawled, pouring himself another glass of firewhisky. He pointed with the glass at the fulminating politician. "You forget Fudge, not only don't you know about the origins of my family, you also don't know squat about the real identity of the Snake Buggerer. You really are an incompetent buffoon, aren't you?"

"How dare you!" Percy Weasley surged to his feet.

"Oh shut up Weatherby!" Harry, the twins, Bill and Charlie chorused.

Percy puffed up like a particularly irate bantam. "I'll have you know..." he shouted, only to gape in shock as Arthur snorted and said, "Yes Weatherby, do shut up."

"Arthur!" Molly exclaimed, horrified.

Her husband glanced at her. "You too, _Mollywobbles_, put a cork in it. I want to hear what Ragnok is saying and not any more of your histrionics, or Percy's pontificating." He pointed then at Ron and Ginny, "and I don't want to hear a sound out of either of you!" He looked back at Ragnok "Pray continue sir!" he said, even as Fred and George rushed over and knelt in front of him, bowing and scraping.

"We're not worthy, we're not worthy!" They chanted.

Arthur flushed a little. "Get out of it, you two," he said a trifle self-consciously, and the twins pounced on him and hugged him.

"We love you, Dad," George muttered as they let him go and trotted back to Harry, their older brothers giving them approving smiles.

Managing not to laugh out loud, Ragnok continued. "To clarify, the main line from Balthazar passed down through several marriages until only two sisters were left carrying the Slytherin name. As I explained earlier, with the Black signet ring, the eldest married into the Gaunt family, while the other married Pollux Black. Many inbred generations later, Merope Gaunt married a muggle named Tom Riddle when she was eighteen, but a year later, alone and in labor, she was found on the steps of a muggle orphanage in London. Apparently her husband had deserted her and she had nowhere to go. She died almost immediately after giving birth and naming her son Tom for his father and Marvolo for his grandfather. This half-blood went on to become Lord Voldemort."

As Ragnok spoke, Harry was glancing around the room at the faces of his friends and foes and noticed that as Voldemort's lineage was revealed, Dumbledore was looking paler and more shaken. Luna tapped him on the arm and gestured to her sister-wife and brother-husbands to draw them closer. "He knows something," she said, her usual dreaminess gone.

"If he was a suspect I was questioning," Tonks added, "I'd know he was guilty of something."

The five of them turned to study the aged headmaster who glanced fleetingly at them before turning away, his usual twinkle noticeably absent from his eyes.

From his seat behind his brother, Aberforth leaned forward. "You knew all that, didn't you?" He muttered, earning a shocked gasp from Minerva and a fierce glare from Albus.

"Not here, not now!" Dumbledore growled through gritted teeth, and Aberforth sat back in his seat, smirking ever so slightly to himself. Merlin, he loved getting under his brother's skin like that.

Minerva tucked the exchange away in her memory and resolved to speak to Harry about it as soon as possible.

Neville raised his hand to attract Ragnok's attention. "If I understand what you are saying correctly, Voldemort was the last of the Heir Primus line, so when he was destroyed in '81, the line magic immediately switched to Sirius as the eldest of the Black sons?"

"Correct Mr. Longbottom. With Lord Black sent to Azkaban without a trial, he was unable to officially take up the mantle as Lord Black-Slytherin, but that in no way canceled his right to do so. With his untimely death, the line passed to his heir. Had Harry not undergone a full blood adoption, he would not have become Lord Slytherin. It was only at the moment of his blood adoption that he became the heir. Had Harry not been adopted, the Slytherin line would have reverted to Draco Malfoy, who would have been Lord Malfoy-Slytherin." At Draco's gasp, the goblin gave him a toothy smile. "However, that is all moot. Harry was adopted by Blood, Law and Magic, so he is, _incontrovertibly, _Lord Slytherin."

Numerous muttered conversations and comments swept through the room. Raising his hand for silence, Ragnok stood. "That is the end of the reading of the Will of Sirius Orion Black, may he rest in peace. Lord Potter-Black-Gryffindor-Slytherin," he grinned at Harry's rolled eyes, "could you please remain behind as there are a number of documents to sign, folios to go through and keys to give you. All others may now leave." With that, he and his assistants swept from the room and the goblin guards opened the double doors into the Gringott's foyer.

Fudge marched from the room, Umbridge and Percy trotting along to keep up with him, closely followed by Odd Lovegood, clutching his notebook.

Filius, Minerva and Abe Dumbledore joined Augusta who led them over to surround Dan and Emma, ostensibly to chat but more likely to act as extra protectors.

Dumbledore went into a huddle with Snape, and then the potions master swept from the room, robes billowing, before the Headmaster advanced on Harry and his party.

Amelia, a grim smile of satisfaction on her face, helped Moody and Croaker escort the two ex-Malfoys from the bank. She was looking forward to having a chat with both of them, after a couple of stiff doses of Veritaserum.

Andy and Ted Tonks spoke briefly with Harry and their daughter, hugs were exchanged then they went over to join Emma and Dan.

Remus and Kingsley, Bill and Hermione, Charlie, Neville, Harry's spouses and Harry himself stared at the approaching Mugwump, no degree of welcome on any of their faces.

However Albus was beaten to the punch by a red-faced and clearly enraged Molly Weasley. Hot on her heels were Ginny and Ron, whilst Arthur bought up the rear, giving Harry a wink over the tops of their heads.

Well, young man, explain yourself!" Molly demanded.

-}-

Perry MacTavish was a naturally sneaky kind of fellow, a trait that had served him well as a curse-breaker. It had also served him well as a thief, rapist and spy.

Now it was serving him especially well, as he slithered his way through the afternoon crowd in Diagon Alley. He was still smarting from his face-off with bloody Bill "I'm so fucking fabulous" Weasley, and had taken a portion of his angst out on a young prostitute who had been working one of the dingy lanes off Knockturn Alley, but even brutalizing her had only partially restored Perry's normal demeanor. He rubbed his left arm and growled softly. The Dark Lord was calling - _again_- and Perry was well aware his reception, once he was able to apparate away, would not be kind.

So caught up was he, contemplating the '_crucio' _looming large in his future, he never even saw the swiftly darting shadow that flickered past, nor felt the prick of a needle in his buttock. It was only as his vision began to fail, and his limbs to freeze, that he saw the two grinning goblins who were now visible for a moment before vanishing again, cloaked in their magic, and he felt himself being carefully carried into a narrow lane between two stores. Then, everything went dark...

-}-

Deep below the rotting Riddle mansion, in the fetid-smelling basement, Voldemort continued to read several ancient tomes and grimoirs, while his faithful, albeit cowardly, servant Wormtail groveled at his feet.

Ever since the arrival of the chest into his master's possession, Wormtail had been on edge. Correction, he was more on edge than normal. Voldemort was coming close to losing his patience with the occasional noises Wormtail was making from his position beside him on the floor.

"Silence, Wormtail! I am so close to completing the next phase of my plan, your pathetic whining is a distraction I shall not tolerate!" Voldemort snapped, slapping Wormtail over the head like he would a disobedient dog.

Wormtail flinched at the blow, although he was used to them. He would have enjoyed nothing more than getting out of the room and away from that chest. Any excuse Voldemort would give him would do, but he knew there was none coming. He could not leave Voldemort's side without being dismissed first, and there was little chance of that.

"Wormtail!" Voldemort said so suddenly he jumped and whimpered again. "I have found it. Fetch Jayne Zelta, I will need her for my plan to work." Voldemort looked down at Wormtail, who was getting to his feet very quickly. "And I will also need you to summon Bellatrix, I have things for her to do as well."

"Yes, my Lord, at once," Wormtail said, scurrying from the room while bowing deeply. Voldemort returned to where he was up to in his reading, then marking the place with the touch of one long, bony finger, he rose to his feet and walked over to the chest sitting in the middle of the room.

"Oh how much power you bring me even when you are closed. Let all those who stand against me tremble in fear when finally you open for me. Not Harry Potter or even Dumbledore could find a way to defeat me then!" He hissed, before he returned to his marked point, and began to read aloud, his speech sliding in and out of Parseltongue as he walked widdershins around the box.

A short time later, the door opened and in came Wormtail, followed by a strongly built, red haired woman and Bellatrix. All three knelt in silence, but Voldemort continued to read and chant as if nothing had happened.

Finally, he finished what he was doing and looked at them. His ever so fearfully faithful Wormtail, the dark and unkempt Bellatrix, and his most knowledgeable witch, Jayne Zelta. She was in her mid-forties and he had recruited her on the spot when she'd offered up her knowledge of making and controlling Inferi, and even darker rituals, far beyond the comprehension of most other wizards. It was she and she alone who had helped him set up the barriers surrounding the horcrux necklace. He had then, of course, obliviated her.

"I have called you here to..." The Dark Lord paused, and then his head jerked back, his snake-like face writhing into an expression of towering rage. "MacTavish!" Voldemort snapped. "Damn those creatures!"

"My Lord?" Bellatrix asked, and the Dark Lord scowled down at her.

"It seems my spy within the halls of the goblins has been neutralized," he snarled, his inhuman face twisted with rage. "They shall regret siding with Potter against me."

"Shall I punish them for you, Master?" Bella breathed, her face alight with sickly desire.

His anger turned slowly to a smile Wormtail knew all too well – an expression that promised pain and bloodshed. "Why yes, my dear Bella, I think you can," Voldemort answered. "My original plan was a single strike, but now..."

The Dark Lord walked up and down before his three slaves, his expression pensive, then he whirled around, red eyes blazing. "Bella; gather ten inner circle Death Eaters, thirty of the new recruits, Gorb, Slarger, and the troll clan of Thurg. Have the trolls begin an attack on Gringott's while the giants destroy as much of Diagon Alley as possible. While they do so, you and the others kill every man, woman and child you can. Then, use the giants to bring down the bank's shields. I want the goblins ruined, their treasures mine. _Turn the Alley into a smoking charnel house!"_

"_YES my Lord!"_ Bellatrix answered, almost shivering with anticipation, but then a tiny frown appeared between her brows. "What of the Aurors, Master? We will be swamped within minutes."

"You dare question me?" Voldemort asked silkily, moving forward to run the tip of his wand down her cheek to rest on the pulse leaping in her throat.

She shuddered, only half in fear. "No, never," she husked, bowing her head in submission.

"Worry not about the Aurors, they will be otherwise occupied. I will signal you through the Mark when to begin your attack. Go and prepare your team."

Voldemort waved her away, so she bowed her head, rose and disappeared out the door. Zelta and Wormtail, who was still quivering like he was sitting on an ice block, continued to wait for his orders.

Voldemort gestured at the waiting pair, indicating they could get to their feet, then pointed at the silent witch. "Now then, I have a very special job for _you,_ my dear," he said, striding over to his desk, Jayne at his heels.

"Whatever you wish my Lord."

-}-

Three hours had passed since he had sent his owls, all that time he had thought of his family and what his next actions would cost them and himself.

Enrico Zabini looked out across the ocean, taking in one last glimpse of the outside world, then, gathering together his courage for what he knew was a painful experience, he placed his hands and wrists into two slight depressions on the wide window ledge and murmured '_Punctus' _as he pressed down hard. As he did so, several hollow spikes magically pierced his flesh and he had to steady himself as a good pint and a half of blood was magically and rapidly suctioned form his body, leaving him dizzy and nauseous.

As soon as the spikes withdrew from his arms, he tottered to his desk and from the top draw, took a half strength blood-replenishing potion and a pepper-up, drinking both before returning to the window. Where he had placed his hands there was now a thread-thin network of blood red lines that were spreading faster than his eye could follow over all the brickwork and stonework. Already, his entire chamber was covered with this almost invisible spider web and everywhere it touched, stone fused to stone, every crack and every fissure, until he was standing within a stone box. Even the window had been sealed over, and where once the door to his private chambers had been, now there was a seamless wall of stone, and beyond it, he knew his chambers had filled up with rock as if they never existed. As his position as warden gave him a link to Azkaban, not dissimilar to Dumbledore's with Hogwarts. Both were ancient magical sights and he had as much control over the prison as Albus did the school.

Zabini knew his actions were irreversible but the strange sixth sense that had been pushing in him all day had made it imperative that he act. That it meant his death was irrelevant, it was the completion of his duties that was required. Even as he went to sit at his desk, he knew that by now the lower levels had reverted to solid stone, entombing whatever prisoners and Dementors had been there, and that the process would be accelerating as his blood moved through the mystical channels built into the bedrock of the island and thus, up into the prison structure itself. The only access to his office was the main door, and this was deliberate as he was expecting a most unpleasant visitor at any moment.

Even as that thought crossed his mind, a sense of approaching evil and the familiar touch of the first one, the most senior of the Dementors, indicated that that being was even now, passing through the outer office and was about to enter where he waited for it. As he thought this the door swung open and a particularly large Dementor floated in, apparently not noticing as the door swung shut behind it, but not quick enough to hide the stone wall that had already begun to form as the outer office was obliterated.

The Dementor gave every impression of glaring at the warden.

^_What is it you have done, human?_^ the Dementor demanded, it's mental voice painful as always, leaving Zabini feeling as if his mind had been clawed and dipped in sewerage. In spite of this, he faced the creature, raising one haughty eyebrow.

"I have done my duty," he said calmly, "a concept I doubt you have any understanding of."

^_Do not use meaningless words, you will tell me what it is you have done or I shall eat your soul._^

Zabini leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers atop his stomach, allowing a sneer of distaste to cross his face. "I am the warden of this facility, I am aware that a danger is approaching that I would not be able to prevent entering the prison complex. I have therefore, as is my prerogative, activated final closure procedures and have finally and permanently closed Azkaban."

The Dementor wafted backwards and forwards in front of the desk, its movements jerky and almost stumbling. ^_I...IEEE... human! My children, their voices! They go out in my head. I cannot hear all of them anymore. What have you done? Their food is spilling free and moving beyond our reach. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?_^

Zabini resisted the urge to grab his head, feeling as if it were on fire. "I have done what I said. I have sealed the prison. Even as we speak, from the lowest depths to the surface and up into the towers, all spaces are being obliterated and all exits closed, all prisoners terminated. All Dementors that were too slow or too stupid to flee will have been entombed along with the human prisoners. The warning bell was rung to notify the human guards and staff, if any of them were too slow, they have met the same fate." he paused, looking thoughtful. "So it seems that if a Dementor is entombed in solid stone, they actually die and the souls they ate are released to continue on their interrupted journey. What a shame I will not have the opportunity to pass this information on."

Even as he finished speaking, the Dementor lunged across the desk, dragging him from his chair and lifting him up off the ground. ^_You have betrayed us human!_^

"No more than you were about to betray us by siding with Voldemort," Zabini choked out.

^_How did you... never mind. Your time has come._^ With that, the Dementor pulled back its hood and lowered its head to Zabini's.

After a dark, endless moment, Enrico found himself floating, still self-aware, yet also conscious of a lack of a physical form. Around him, he could feel others, similar to himself, and in an incandescent exchange of energies they all knew each other's names and he realized they were all the other souls that this particular Dementor had absorbed over the many centuries of its existence.

It was as that happened that he heard his host scream wordlessly in rage, and Enrico, once the Warden of Azkaban, the feared wizarding prison knew that the first one had just discovered it was trapped inside a stone box that had once been his office, with no way out, where it would remain, uneating and unable to be with its few remaining offspring.

Even as he felt the repulsive sensation of the Dementor drawing energy from he and the other souls, Enrico chuckled to himself. Over the next few minutes that the primary Dementor would have the pleasure of feeling the walls of its prison slowly grow inward, ever encroaching until finally it was smothered by cold stone at which point Enrico and the other souls would be free.

-}-

"Well, young man, explain yourself!" Molly demanded.

Before Harry could respond, a small red-headed missile launched itself at him, with a squeal of joy. "Harry!"

Harry's eyes practically bugged out of his head and he reflexively flung out both hands in a gesture of self-defense. "_NO_!" He yelled.

As if springing from the palms of his hands, double blasts of frigid air, ice crystals sparkling in their wake, struck Ginny and flung her backwards like an autumn leaf in a hurricane. So powerful were they, that Molly, Arthur and a flailing, billowing Mugwump all were sent arse over tea kettle along with several chairs, and one young goblin who hadn't been watching what he was doing.

Ron, who had been slightly to one side, managed to retain his footing but now had icicles in his hair and all over his clothing. His teeth were chattering so badly he wasn't able to get out a comprehensible word and instead simply stood shivering violently, glaring at the now hysterically laughing group in front of him. All except Harry, who once again looked both sheepish and embarrassed.

"So," drawled Remus, "looks like your air elemental abilities just kicked in."

George sniggered. "Quite the blow job you gave our little sister Potter."

Fred elbowed his twin. "A bit more forceful than the ones we're used to."

"And a good bit chillier," Tonks added, getting in on the act.

"And who'd want their good bits chilled like that?" Luna said, with a demure smile.

By this stage, Harry was practically purple. "Will you lot shut up?" he hissed through gritted teeth, even as his laughing companions went to pick up the fallen.

To say Albus Dumbledore was not happy was on par with saying the eruption of Vesuvius was a small hiccup. But many years of political in-fighting had taught him, if nothing else, how to keep a good poker face. "Well Harry, that was quite the display. When did you develop elemental abilities? And do you have any others?"

Harry glanced at the old wizard, giving him the full impact of his changed appearance and even more remarkable eyes. "I'm not sure it was elemental abilities Headmaster, I simply had no wish to be assaulted by Miss Weasley. Perhaps it was some accidental magic protecting me."

Before Dumbledore could say anything, he was pushed aside by the Weasley matriarch. "And why would being hugged by my Ginny be so terrible?"

Harry, who had regained his complexion, looked at her, a suspiciously demure expression on his face. Seeing this, every one of his companions took a step backwards.

"Uh-oh," Hermione muttered to her husband, and Bill grunted in agreement. Charlie and Neville exchanged speaking looks and surreptitiously drew their wands just in case, while Remus rolled his eyes and sighed, even as Kingsley attempted not to laugh out loud. The twins, Luna and Tonks all had slightly feral smiles and noticing all of this, Arthur Weasley, who had been about to join his wife, instead snagged his youngest son by the arm and pulled him out of what he had the distinct feeling was going to be the line of fire.

"Yes," Ginny demanded, having straightened her clothes and brushed her hair back with her hand. "Why shouldn't I hug you Harry? After all, we mean so much to each other."

"Not as much as you might think," Hermione muttered, just loud enough for the volatile red-head to hear her.

Before Mount Ginevra could erupt, Harry smiled sweetly and said "I didn't think it was appropriate to be hugged by an unattached girl in front of my husbands and wives."

Kingsley palmed his wand as did the rest of Harry's companions, even as Molly, Ginny and Ron all flushed and then burst into yells and demands and shouts and accusations, before Arthur's remarkably calm voice cut through the cacophony.

"Did you marry all of them Harry?" He asked.

"Um... no, Mr. Weasley. Just Luna, Dora, Fred and George." Harry glanced at the care-worn face of the man who had been so kind to him over the years. "I'm sorry to break it to you like this sir, but the twins and I truly love each other and we and the girls are completely happy."

Arthur studied the young man standing before him, ignoring the increasingly hysterical demands of his wife and youngest children. "If you're happy, that's all I could possibly want," he said, extending his hand to the lad he considered as much one of his own as any of his other children. He smiled impishly then lent forward, whispering just for Harry's ears, "I never really thought you and the fan girl were truly suited. You and the twins always struck me as being the closest, in spite of how much time you spent with Ron. I'm glad the five of you are together Harry, you deserve every happiness and support."

Before Harry could answer the heart-felt comments, Arthur was roughly shoved aside and instead he found himself faced with the glowering visage of Molly Weasley. "What do you mean 'you're married'? You're under age."

Harry smiled grimly. "Actually Mrs. Weasley, if you'd been listening in the Will reading, you'd know Sirius emancipated me by declaring me patriarch of the House of Black, which allowed me to take the headship of the House of Potter, thereby confirming my adult status. All that was done before we married."

"Actually Mum," Fred piped up, "we only got married about an hour ago."

"So I guess you could say," George added helpfully, "today is our wedding day."

"Isn't that lovely?" They chorused.

"Not really helping, guys," Tonks murmured.

Molly, on hearing this, swelled up even more, to the point where a bemused Harry was convinced she would actually explode. "_How dare you!_" she exclaimed in throbbing accents, but as this was not apparently directed specifically at him, Harry decided not to answer.

During all of this, Ron had managed to warm himself up and had surreptitiously made his way over to where Hermione was standing with his eldest brother.

Somehow, the bushy-haired witch had changed quite dramatically since he'd last seen her. Like the entire group with Harry, she was clad in form-fitting black leather underneath a plain black robe, and to Ron's eyes, she looked bloody marvelous. She'd filled out and her hair had grown longer and was now bound back in a thick braid, showing her dark brown eyes and high-sculptured cheekbones to their best advantage. Ron thought she looked totally shaggable, a huge improvement on the bushy-haired, buck-toothed little bookworm she'd been throughout the majority of their school years. He'd always known Hermione would be his for the taking, as after all, who else would be interested in her?

A little voice inside him now pointed out just how attractive she was and cast doubts on any chance he might have with her, but it was easily ignored.

"Wow Herms, you look great!" Ron said, giving what he thought was a cool smirk, but it actually looked like one of Draco Malfoy's more constipated leers, and without hesitation, he grabbed her and managed to actually get his lips on hers.

The next second, there was something akin to a potions accident, with exploding cauldron, happening in his underwear and he fell to the ground hiccupping in agony, clutching his privates. The pain was so great he actually vomited on the floor, before rolling around in his own mess for several minutes.

Through the haze of tears, spew and pain, he could dimly make out the face of his mother who was anxiously calling him by name and wanting to know what was wrong. It was only after several more minutes, a number of cleaning spells and a deftly applied pain-numbing charm, courtesy of his father, that Ronald Billius Weasley was mentally alert enough to understand what was being said around him.

He looked up from the floor into the ice blue eyes of his eldest brother, and then went cross-eyed looking at the glowing end of Bill's wand pointed right at his face.

"If you ever," Bill said in a deathly quiet voice, "attempt to lay your hands on my wife again, I will permanently cripple you and insure that you, at least, will never add any levels to the Weasley family tapestry. This is your only warning."

Hermione leaned down and her sweet smile was even more frightening than Bill's controlled anger. "Touch me again Ronald, and I will turn your penis into a wand holster and your scrotum into a lady's handbag. Do you understand?" Since it had been 'Herms' that had caused the original pain, all Ron could do was nod weakly.

Molly was completely flummoxed. "Ma...married?" She gasped, looking frantically from her eldest son's stony visage to the know-it-all Mudblood's smug smile. "You... you're married?" She pressed her hand to her chest. "I think I'm having a spasm."

The corner of Bill's mouth twitched. "You can have as many spasms as you want, Mum, but Hermione and I got married at the same time as Harry and his lot. Get used to the idea."

"Oh, and while we're all sharing such good news," Charlie said, moving to stand beside his brother, "I've got something to tell you too, Mum."

Molly took one look at her second son who's hand was entwined with Neville Longbottom's, took in the smiles on their faces, and the way they leaned against each other, and her eyes rolled back into her head and she fainted.

Arthur made a halfhearted attempt to catch her, but failed. "Oh dear, missed!" He said, not looking particularly sorry.

"Butter fingers!" the twins chorused.

Arthur ignored them, and instead went to Bill and embraced him, the two men pounding each other on the back the way men do when they hug, before doing the same to Charlie. Then, with tears in his eyes, he turned and embraced Hermione and welcomed her to the family, before doing the same to a blushing and stammering Neville. He then stood in a somewhat dazed state, smiling happily to himself.

Through all of this, Albus Dumbledore had said nothing, watching as so many peripheral plans, ideas and long-term plots withered and died. It was sobering.

Ginny, white-faced with blazing eyes, yanked out her wand and pointed first at Bill, then Charlie, then Hermione, then Harry and back again, as if she had no idea who to curse first. Before she could say anything, however, a goblin stumbled into the room, bleeding profusely.

"My lords, Ragnok sends word. Death Eaters in the Alley." He then passed out before Harry could reach him.

-}—

A/N: There, that should keep you happy for a while before we post again. Do keep an eye out for our other story.

Now for some fun!

We want to dedicate our next and final chapter to our fans. But to whom specifically? So many loyal readers, it is tough to decide. So let us see who has been paying attention. Within the chapters of this story are 7 specifically misnamed or inserted characters. Who are they? How will you know? Here are some clues.

1) Two characters are named after cast members from the Harry Potter movies.

2) Two characters are from BBC comedy history.

3) One character is taken from Monty Python

4) Two characters are us, Morriganscrow and Shikiblade, self-inserted.

Can you find all of them? Please say so in your reviews. We will judge the seven winners, and the next and last chapter will be for them. And just because someone has said an answer, does not mean you should not repeat it, as we do need 7 winners after all. So good luck, and we will (promise with all honesty) post again soon… at least before the year is out.


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